#but it could possibly be more of my ocs thou

[myaverageartblog]

Pop Music Club Trio! First animation in a while, I'm a bit rusty but I'm still pretty happy with it~

[naraeragon]

[Mihawk x Reader/OC] The strongest swordsman who was raised by a witch

Reader is my witch OC - Yidhra. I have been making arts about them and this is my fanfic for them. This mostly based on 'The witch and the kid' trend

Tags: mentor Reader, pupil Mihawk, witch Reader, old English pronoun, horticulture, BB x shota, slight horror

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Mihawk was 10 when he ran away from his home without much grief and frustration. He was abnormally calm for a young child and was able to live on his own as long as he could until he stumbled into the witch's wood. He was taken shelter inside a cave from the heavy rain, then the witch found him.

She could have penalised him for intruding her forest, Mihawk knew she would by the look on her face, and people rumored that witches always kidnapped and feasted on children. Mihawk would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid of her but he knew well not to show it. After all, he had been surviving until now with some tricks under his sleeves.

To his surprise, the witch just asked if he wanted to stay at her place. It came with a price of course.

“ I shall be thy mentor and caretaker. Thou may learn as much as thee want until thou reach thy adulthood and leave. ” The witch offered.

There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch, was the first lesson Mihawk's learnt so instead of accepting the witch’s offer immediately, he asked.

“What do I have to pay?”

The witch seemed pleased with his sharp mind, not many children of his age are well aware of danger around them. Or perhaps any child who had suffered illed fate would develop that level of caution.

“Thou shall know until the time comes. Agree or not, the choice is thine.”

Even though Mihawk seemed to be more mature than other children of his age, there was no possible way he could survive alone without getting his hands dirty. He wouldn’t mind, yes, but if he had a choice to live a better life, he would definitely take it. In the end, he was just a mere child.

“I’ll follow you, mentor. My name is Dracule Mihawk.”

He thought maybe living with a witch couldn’t be worse than being a slave.

“I am Yidhra. I am a witch. Remember, thou art forbidden to speak of mi name to other individuals.”

Mihawk was adopted by a witch when he was 10 years old.

----------

[semi-sketchy]

As for the OC thing, I don't have an inherent problem with them existing (I mean, it's not like I don't have my own OC...), and I can even understand being mindful of wanting them to fully be their own person, as opposed to *just* something that Sonic influences. But of course, IDW has handled them very poorly, with most of them either being just plain shit (like Surge), or the ones who could have been great being ruined to the point of fatigue (like Tangle).

I got my own OCs, too. They're a lot of fun! I will finish their refs one day I just keep drawing dogs instead

I think Sonic as a series is very open to new characters. Unlike something that follows a completely linear story/timeline (like Xenoblade), it's incredibly easy to add someone new to the cast since Sonic is always traveling, looking for the next adventure and meeting new people. If a new character is introduced, it doesn't interrupt the overarching story since each one is relatively self-contained. You can hop in anywhere and that's something I love.

When you have a static character like Sonic who isn't going to have major development arcs, it makes sense to show how his positive attitude and heart of gold inspires others. The story isn't about following his personal growth; it's about how he touches the lives of others.

He helped give Tails confidence after he was bullied, he inspired Amy to become stronger so she could keep up with her hero, taught Blaze she didn't need to shoulder everything alone, showed Chip the world he never knew, and was there for Shahra when she was finally freed from her abusive boyfriend. It's not just Sonic either, this even extends to other characters, such as Amy reminding Shadow what he was created for.

I think that's actually a strong suit of the Sonic series and considering how large the cast is, I believe Sonic Team sees that, too. Which is why I'm missing it so bad in IDW.

Lots of the comic cast are just kinda there and that's okay, not everyone in the game cast is specially touched by Sonic, I mean the Babylon Rogues didn't exactly have a takeaway. Although, there hasn't really been anyone new that Sonic has had a personal impact on.

Tangle was a fighting adrenaline junkie already, Whisper opened up because of Tangle, Tails is just housing Belle and she finds closure on her own, Jewel is...I'll be honest I haven't quite figured that out yet, she really just exists.

Lanolin DOES get inspired to do more because of Sonic, but that's all off-screen and when she doubts herself, it's Tangle that picks her up — not Sonic. The closest I feel we've gotten to a character that Sonic has really affected is Surge and...yeah, she's her own bundle of problems.

I believe Surge and Kit were supposed to be Sonic's consequences — something to make him reflect on his mistakes and possibly take some responsibility for it, but it became condescending. It served for him to double-down on how he was right instead of acknowledging that his actions enabled their creation and continued to cause them pain.

I just saw projection. Surge spouting off about Sonic's holier-than-thou attitude, flinging the criticisms Flynn had gotten at Sonic and digging in his heels that he was right. (I know Stanley handled them after #51, although it appears the writing process is very much a collaborative one and she does try to mimic his style.)

There was nothing learned, nothing gained, no growth for anyone, the arc didn't matter, which is a problem the comic has suffered from before. I recognize it's a challenge with continuous stories, things happen because they're entertaining to read, but there really was no takeaway with any of it.

It's a shame because it'd be so easy to apply the obvious angle of getting close/succeeding in your goal doesn't fix the actual problem. The pain and anger doesn't go away, but now you don't have anywhere to direct it to. That's what I wanted to see with them, but of course, as Flynn said, this isn't something smarter.

[macadoodlewrites]

Dangerous Love - Part Sixteen (Rafe Cameron x Routledge!Reader)

Summary: Avery Routledge is John B's cousin, and she has just moved to the OBX - just in time for a treasure hunt. But with John B keeping secrets in order to protect her, he pushes her into the arms of the Kook King. She becomes tangled with none other than Rafe Cameron, but will she realise how damaged he is before it is too late, or will he ruin her before she can get away?

Warnings: death, smut, dub-con, non-con, toxic behaviour, abuse, kidnapping

Ships: Rafe Cameron x OC, minor!JJ x OC

Main Masterlist

Dangerous Love Masterlist

Word Count: 2.6k

I ran down the long dirt road, away from the Island Club and in the general direction of The Cut. As I ran, I yanked my phone out of my bag and dialled John B. Nothing. It went straight to his voicemail. So instead, I dialled JJ. He answered after two rings.

"Avi? Where the hell have you been?" He sounded angry.

"Long story, but it doesn't matter. Where are you all?"

"Another long story," JJ replied. "Have you spoken to John B? Where are you now?"

I finally stopped running, paused, and then spoke hesitantly. "No, only you, and I'm on Figure Eight. But heading towards home."

"I'll meet you. Send me your location."

As my phone was about to die - thanks to not being charged overnight - I pinged him my location before hanging up. JJ sounded so angry, and I wanted to know what could have possibly happened. Why had my friends broken into someone's house? They were only supposed to be melting down the gold and taking it to the pawn shop. How could have I missed so much in one morning?

JJ would find me and explain everything. And I would have to make up an excuse for not showing up this morning.

Starting to run again, I realised just how long it would take me to get from Figure Eight to The Cut, but what choice did I have?

As I moved, I was dimly aware of the town disappearing around me until I was entering the quieter part of the rich side of the island. And then I heard it. A motorbike approaching behind me, the sound I instantly associated with Rafe.

A bike swung around in front of me, cutting off my journey, so close that I nearly ran straight into the driver. I skidded to a halt, shoes digging into the sandy dirt.

Rafe flicked the visor of his helmet up, revealing harsh, cold, blue eyes. As he did so, I saw that the knuckles on his right hand were busted up, red marring the usual flawless skin. "Hey, sweetheart. Where are you going?" I swallowed and took a step backwards as he slid off of his bike. "It's a shame that you ran off. You didn't get to finish your mimosa."

His fists were clenched at his sides, but his posture was relaxed, at ease - yet every part of my body told me that if I tried to dart around him, he would be ready to spring at me. Not that I needed to be scared.

This was Rafe. He wouldn't hurt me.

"I'm sorry. John B phoned and there's an emergency at home."

"And you didn't want to say goodbye?" He pulled his helmet off and placed it on his bike. "Or are you lying to me?"

"Rafe, I'm sorry but I really have to go."

The reminder of Rafe's conversation with Barry was still at the front of my mind - how he didn't defend his sister, how shifty the entire talk had sounded. Why did he owe Barry money? He was a Cameron, and as far as I knew, the Cameron's had more than enough money.

"Where do you have to go to so badly that you couldn't finish breakfast, Avery?"

"I told you, it's a family emergency," I retorted. Rafe closed the distance between us, and before I could stop him, his arm reached out and snatched itself around my waist.

"That's really interesting. Because we both know that the only family you have on this island is John B, and he happens to be causing trouble with my sister. So, I will ask again. Why are you lying?"

I tried to step backwards, but Rafe's grip was strong, encircling me like an iron chain. "Rafe, I'm not lying-"

"I know that you were listening to my conversation with Barry, even though I told you to sit down and eat your breakfast. You didn't need to eavesdrop, did you sweetheart?"

"I don't take orders from you, Rafe," I retaliated. "And fine, I was eavesdropping. But I heard him threaten your sister. And you didn't defend her."

Rafe sighed loudly, running a hand through his dirty blond hair. "Are you kidding me? That's why you ran off?" Irritation was prominent in his voice, and I wanted to run away from the tone.

"I would defend John B to the ends of the earth. Or any of my friends. And that includes Sarah."

His grip tightened so that I was pulled against his body, no room left between us. "Yeah, I know just how loyal you are to your friends. Infuriatingly so," he whispered. "You don't know enough about this island and how things work. Barry wouldn't touch Sarah. My dad would have his head, the police would be on him, and Barry would be behind bars. And he knows it. They were just words, and I wasn't going to rise to his level."

I stared up at him, eyes searching his face for any signs of dishonesty. I found none. I then looked down at his hand, taking it in my own and stared at the bruised skin. "Then what happened to your hand?"

"Barry threatened you," he replied bluntly. I looked back up at him as his eyes flashed malevolently.

"And I don't have a rich daddy to save me?"

"No one insults you, Avery. Not in front of me. Especially not some low-life like Barry. But he knew exactly what to say to get to me, so I had to show him just how far I would go to protect you," Rafe mumbled, his blue eyes focusing on my lips as he spoke.

"What did you do?"

"That's not important, sweetheart." Despite his words, there was no warmth in his voice. "What is important is what your little friends have been up to today."

Once again, I tried to move backwards, away from the cold fire in his eyes, the angry clench of his jaw, his intoxicating scent. "I don't know what they were doing."

He tutted, and I knew that I needed to leave. It was clear that somehow, Rafe knew more than I could have imagined.

"Do I look like an idiot to you, Avery?" I froze, staring up at him. "I can put two and two together. You had an alarm set this morning to meet your friends. You missed that, and since then, your friends have been getting themselves into trouble. So, tell me, what were the plans that were so important to you? So important that you accused me of sabotaging them?"

I pulled my body back again, and finally, he relented. His arm gave way, and I finally stepped back, putting some well needed distance between us. How could I have woken up next to him this morning feeling so happy, but now feel so wary around him? Rafe really was the master at eliciting all emotions from me.

"I don't know," I whispered. "I've only been with you this morning."

"And I want it to stay that way. I have Topper and Kelce out looking for my sister, and once they find her, I'm going to be having a chat with her about who she chooses to hang around with."

How intolerant could he be? I knew that he didn't like JJ, John B and the others, but how dare he act like all they were was trouble.

"You can't control other people, Rafe. Not even your sister."

"I'm not looking to control anyone, Avery. But I do know that those Pogues are no good. All they are going to do is drag you down with them and get you into trouble."

I'd had enough of his prejudice behaviour. Sending him one final glare and crossing my arms over my chest, I stepped around him and his bike, and started walking the way that I had originally been heading.

Screw Rafe Cameron.

"Avery!" he yelled. "Avery, do not walk away from me!"

I sped-walked away, not bothering to spare him a second glance. But I should have known better. Rafe was not someone that you walked away from - he was a spoilt, rich kid who was used to getting his own way. And he had gotten me, despite every instinct of mine to stay away. And now that we had slept together and admitted that we loved each other, I was beginning to realise just what that meant.

For one, it meant not to walk away from him when we were arguing. But I couldn't let him talk poorly about my friends. And I didn't need him investigating further into my friends' activities. He was getting too close to the truth and the gold had to remain a secret.

Rafe's hand closed around my wrist and tugged me back, far harsher than he ever had before.

"Do not walk away from me, sweetheart. We are having a conversation."

"No, Rafe. You are acting like an asshole and insulting my friends. You do not get a say in who I spend my time with, and what I do with that time."

"I should think after last night that I get a say, Avery. Or did that mean nothing to you."

His grip was tight, painfully so and I tried to tug my wrist away. I grabbed his arm with my free hand and tried to pull him away from me, but instead his bruised hand came up and encircled my other wrist. Both of my hands were now useless, shackled by Rafe’s strong grip.

"Rafe, please stop-"

"What have your friends been up to today? Why so secretive?"

I glared up at him, refusing to speak.

"I live with Sarah and John B and see how they sneak around. And I spend time with you. You are a bad liar. Now, I would really appreciate a little honesty from you. What are you all up to?"

It sounded like a test, as if he already knew the answer but needed for me to say it. The last time he had asked, I had thrown JJ in his face. But things were different now. Rafe and I had grown infinitely closer since that day.

But I still couldn't tell him the truth. The gold was not just my secret.

"There's nothing to say, Rafe. You don't need to know what my friends and I get up to."

He tugged me forwards, leaning his face dangerously close to mine. "If it involves you, then it concerns me."

"You don't own me, Rafe. You sound crazy."

He scoffed, his fingers digging into the bones of my wrists. "Ownership is going a little far, Avery. But I do love you. And I will do anything for you. Even protecting you from your chaotic friends."

"Let me go, Rafe. I don't want to talk about this-"

"I'm not letting you go."

The amount of meaning that he was placing behind those words was ridiculous.

"Rafe, I think that we're done here-"

"We're not done until I say that we are done."

"Rafe-"

Focusing only on Rafe, I hadn't heard the sound of a dirt bike approaching, but as it pulled up next to us, I finally snapped out of my Rafe-trance.

"What the hell is going on here?"

It was JJ. I stared at him, and then back to Rafe.

Both boys' faces were full of hatred - but Rafe's scared me. I stepped back away from him, but he didn't let me go. I watched as JJ looked between both of us before focusing on Rafe's hold on me.

"Let her go, Rafe," he all but growled, stepping off his dirt bike. He wasn't wearing a helmet.

Rafe sighed, continuing to glare at him. "Do you mind, Maybank? Avery and I are having a private conversation."

Looking at me, JJ's lips tightened. "Avery doesn't look like a very willing participant. Let her go."

"She is more than willing to spend time with me. Don't be jealous. The ladies hate jealousy."

I could have laughed at Rafe's comment. Rafe was more jealous than most men, especially when it came to JJ. But I said nothing. I didn't want this situation to worsen - as it was, things were bad.

"I won't say it again, Rafe. Let her go. She wants to go home, don't you, Avery?"

Both boys looked at me, and I stared back, looking at one than the other. The only two boys that I had ever had feelings for were stood in front of me, animosity radiating off of both of them.

I exhaled shakily, before looking at Rafe. "I do need to get home, Rafe."

He stared back at me, eyes roaming my face. Finally, he released my wrists, his fingers sliding over my skin as the blood started flowing back to my hands again.

"I'll take you home."

"Not necessary," JJ interrupted. Now that Rafe was no longer holding me, JJ stepped towards us, clearly trying to wedge himself between me and Rafe. "You don't belong on The Cut."

"Rich coming from you," Rafe spat. "Considering how much time you and your friends spend on Figure Eight. Now, come on Avery. Let's go."

I stepped backwards, away from both of them. Rafe wanted me away from JJ, and wanted to take me home so that he could find out what plans I was hiding from him. And I wanted to tell him. I didn't want secrets between us. But there were some things that I couldn't say, no matter how much I wanted to.

And JJ. Sweet, kind, always-there-for-me JJ. I needed to know what had happened with the other Pogues this morning. And he couldn't tell me in front of Rafe.

Eyes flickering between them both, I watched as Rafe took in my uncertainty.

His face blanked. Emotionless. Terrifying.

"You know what, Avery? I will make this easy for you. Go with JJ."

I stared at him in disbelief, mouth open. "Rafe-"

"Go. With. Him."

JJ, blissfully unaware of everything that had happened between Rafe and I, stepped forwards and took my hand. "Let's go, Avi."

I looked down at where our hands were together, and then up to Rafe. He was already looking at us, at our hands. Despite how expressionless he was, I saw how he swallowed harshly, how something in his eyes dimmed.

"Rafe," I whispered, so quietly that no one should have heard it. But both boys snapped up to look at me. I only focused on Rafe, the boy that I was in love with. The boy who looked like I was betraying him.

And I knew Rafe well enough to know that he would not take a betrayal lying down.

"Come on, Avi," JJ tugged me, and I finally turned, stepping towards JJ's bike.

"Don't worry, Avery. Your secrets are safe with me."

"What are you on about, Rafe?" JJ spat, as all the blood drained from my face.

Rafe smiled nastily at him. "Nothing, Maybank." And then he glanced behind JJ, straight to me. "Words are just words, Avery." Something snapped in my chest. “And we'll always have last night."

Without another word, he turned, put his helmet on and rode away without glancing back at us. At me.

Twelve hours ago, I was led in bed with Rafe, telling him I loved him. And now, it sounded like he was taking it back. Words are just words. Did he really mean that, or was he only saying it to hurt me in retaliation for not choosing him? It was something that Rafe would do.

But no matter what, my feelings for him couldn't be destroyed just because he was being petty and malicious.

As Rafe drove away, he took a little piece of my heart with him.

And now I had to deal with JJ. JJ knew that I had slept with Rafe.

Things could only get better from here. Right?

PREVIOUS PART // NEXT PART

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[bakuliwrites]

Lunar Halo, Chapter 6- Starlight

Rating: 18+ (for future chapters), Minors DNI!!!!!

Chapter Links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, Ending 1, Ending 2, Ending 3

Fandom: Dark Souls

Relationships: Dark Sun Gwyndolin/OC, Dark Sun Gwyndolin/Chosen Undead

Tags for Whole Work: Major Character Death, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Romance, Grief/Mourning, Body Horror, Body Worship, Oral S*x, Penetrative S*x, Vaginal Fingering, Friends to Lovers, Bodyguard Romance, Blades of the Darkmoon, Marriage (and not in the Dark Souls 3 definition of it...), Marriage Proposal, Gwyndolin uses he/him pronouns, Falling in Love

Chapter Summary: Gwyndolin slowly starts to come out of his seclusion, while growing ever closer with his Blade. Read here or on my AO3

Neither Gwyndolin nor his Blade expect to reach a solution for the fading of the Fire. The dilemma remains as unsolvable as always. Gwyndolin carries on, the Undead carry on, playing their parts in the incomprehensible cycle of the world. However, Gwyndolin slowly begins to discard his reclusiveness at the gentle encouragement of his Blade. And at the realization that this kingdom is his now. He has inherited it, and perhaps he should stop thinking of it as his Father’s. Perhaps it is time for him to start thinking of it as his. Though he is not ready to abandon illusion, he is ready to change his mindset. 

Slowly, the Dark Sun emerges from his shadows, gracing the halls of Anor Londo with his presence. No longer is he sequestered in the Tomb of the Great Lord. Though he still spends most of his time guarding the Tomb, Gwyndolin doesn’t mind conducting some of his other duties from elsewhere in the cathedral. He is more open to allowing various knights and the other members of the covenant see him, though not for very long. It is a gradual process, but the Dark Sun grows more comfortable each day with his own appearance. 

Meanwhile, Gwyndolin’s bond with his Blade continues to deepen. He finds himself hanging on her every word. And she, his. Words become knowing glances, shy smiles from across the halls. Her hand brushes his in passing, his lingers on her cheek. The depth of their affection for one another does not go unnoticed. Yorshka comments on its sweetness, the way that Gwyndolin seems to radiate joy in the presence of his Blade, and the way his Blade lights up at the very sight of him. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you this happy, dear brother,” Yorshka puts forth one evening, smiling softly. Gwyndolin beams, casting his gaze towards his Blade in the gardens down below. She doesn’t notice him staring, too absorbed in her patrolling duties. Later that night, she brings him little flowers from the garden, flowers that she weaves into his crown. 

“They match you perfectly, My Lord,” she beams, admiring her handiwork. He glances at his reflection in a nearby window. Tiny, white petals adorn his crown and he has to admit that they look rather fetching. Gwyndolin turns back to his Blade, sweeping back a strand of hair obscuring her face and smiling softly.

“In privacy, thou art permitted to call me, ‘Gwyndolin,’” he offers, growing weary of her calling him, “My Lord.” 

It takes some effort for her to say, but finally she does indeed, in their private moments, call him, “Gwyndolin.” And to hear his name spoken in her voice is music to his ears, an aria that graces him in its tenderness. It is then that Gwyndolin realizes she has never shared her name with him. Names are sacred, powerful. They should not be told to just anyone, so he understands why she may have been hesitant to share up to this point. But he is surprised when he learns that she does not have a name at all.

“I am accursed and nameless,” she states, brows knit together and mouth set in a small frown, “Perhaps I had a name once, but I have long since forgotten it.” 

“That shall not do!” Gwyndolin exclaims, racking his brain for a possible name she could adopt for herself, “Thou must select one. Think long and hard. For names are precious, and thou art deserving of one most special.” 

She beams at him and falls silent for a long while. As mid-morning bleeds into afternoon, his Blade thinks. And thinks. And thinks. Until suddenly, when the sun has crept to the horizon, her eyes light up excitedly.

“I have one!” she starts, breaking the silence. She bends to whisper in Gwyndolin’s ear. Her name will be for him and him alone to utter, she proclaims. When she has finished telling him, he repeats it to her. He lets it settle on his tongue, rolls it around for a while in his mouth, savoring its sweetness. 

“A lovely name,” he compliments, deep affection in his voice, “Perfect for thee, indeed.” She seems utterly delighted at his approval, repeating the name a few times as if to commit it to memory. 

Now, when Gwyndolin calls to her, he calls her not by Blade, but by the name she shared with him in confidence. The smile she gives him when he calls her is worth all the stars in the vast heavens above, stars Gwyndolin would scoop from their distant thrones and lay at her feet if she asked for them. He is certain that, were he to whisper her name to the wind, it would carry it across the land and sweep away whatever rot it touched, revealing a fecundity long hidden under layers of decay and ruin. 

How is it that the Dark Sun has allowed himself to grow so close, so intimate with a mortal? He supposes he should be troubled by this. Yet, he feels starved for her company when she is not around. Desperate for her presence. When she escorts him to his bedchamber each night, he wishes she would come inside and not just linger at the door. 

Often in his past, Gwyndolin had been called sullen and brooding. Unapproachable. But lonely Gwyndolin has longed for companionship. For someone with whom to share his life, to share his woes with. He has yearned for comfort and acceptance. And this mortal, of all creatures in this broken world, gives him all of that and more. What is he to do about such a predicament? She is a gentle soul, a light in this mortal coil. But she is a human and he, a god. Is there room in this existence for such a pairing? 

Regardless of the answer to this question, Gwyndolin’s heart is officially forfeit to his Blade in its entirety one scorching afternoon, when the heat of the day grows too much for him to adorn himself with all his royal accoutrements. In the privacy of the Tomb, with her by his side, Gwyndolin dares to remove his crown, allowing his Blade to assist him in this private task. She sets the gilded accessory gently to the side and stares curiously at him, memorizing his delicate features. It is Gwyndolin’s turn to glance shyly at the ground, heat from the day or perhaps from his own sheepishness painting his cheeks pink. His Blade tenderly lifts his chin, joy and awe lighting her eyes.

“You should forgo your crown more often,” she beams, gently caressing his cheek, “A face this lovely should not be obscured, even by things as pretty as gold.”

She hovers mere centimeters from him, her breath fanning gently against his chin. In this weightless tension, Gwyndolin can hear her racing heart, the very rush of her blood through her branching veins. Her mortality has never been more apparent, and yet Gwyndolin has never been more enamored with anyone in the whole of the world. She thinks he is beautiful, and Gwyndolin starts to believe that maybe he really is. 

“You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean,” he whispers, a poisonous voice in his mind reminding him of how sickly and frail he looks. A deep frown pinches his Blade’s face and heartache floods her irises in fractured hues.

“Dearest Gwyndolin,” she breathes, the pad of her thumb smoothing along his cheekbone, “The sun is a pittance in comparison to thy radiance. I starve in its meager light. But I flourish in yours.” 

The Dark Sun’s eyes dart up to meet his Blade’s. Her face crinkles with sincere joy at the muted shock on his face. It’s clear she did not say this in jest. She isn’t mocking him or spouting drivel. The look of wonderment she graces Gwyndolin with is enough to tell him that she means what she has said. And really, truly means it. Her kindness overflows, envelopes Gwyndolin in a pleasant warmth utterly dissimilar to the scorching light of the sun. Instead, it is a warmth like the comforting embers of a fire in a hearth. It is more than affection he feels for his Blade. The Dark Sun feels himself overflowing with love.  

“If that is so,” Gwyndolin finally goes on, gently pulling her closer, “Than thou art brighter even still. All the stars in the night sky are surely envious of thine incandescence. They dull against the luster of thy light.” 

In the lambency of the Tomb, Gwyndolin concedes his heart to his Blade, and in return, she surrenders hers. She swallows his startled gasp, their lips pressed fervently against one another’s. Gwyndolin pulls his Blade into him, his hands resting underneath her jaw, feeling her pulse against his fingertips. She is soft and she is gentle, her kisses pure and warm. Gwyndolin is renewed. In her arms, it’s as if the very vault of heaven has broken open. Stars fall from their facets to the earth, fizzling through the atmosphere, and illuminating bleak shadows with their sparkling light. 

A/N: Sorry for the slight delay in releasing this chapter! I was traveling all weekend and didn’t get a chance to sit down to edit/post. I also wanted to say thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all of the likes and the lovely comments I have received. It makes me happy to see there are so many who love Gwyndolin as much as I do! I appreciate your support from the bottom of my heart 💜

[thekrows-nest]

*wiggles inside askbox* So I have a very maybe specific scenario of jealous!Krow and Scarlet (Dove OC) in mind so I decided to word vomit it in your asks c: Basically, a situation where Krow had bought time with Scarlet like always but some sort of rather rich client comes up, pushes a lot of money onto the counter and demands whatever schedule Scarlet had to be cancelled and send her to him instead. It just so happens that Krow is there too (waiting for Scarlet to show up) and when Scarlet does show up so she can go with him (maybe even gave him a smile cuz she's comfortable w him 💕🥲), the man grabs her by her shoulders still demanding to take her time. Scarlet to make the man less aggraviated may say something like "Calm down there sweetheart~ How are you going to do me if you use all your energy being angry? You gotta save a bit" and just being the flirty way she is used to be with clients but ofc we got Krow there 👀💃 Anygays to stop my word vomiting, maybe we can have the man trying to drag Scarlet out by force and some jelly Krow action 😏😏 OKAY THAT IS ALL MY DAYDREAMING BYEEEE

🔞MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🔞

Hoo boy, is it on like Donkey Kong.

Krow would have put the deposit down at the counter, only the barest of polite smiles to the one manning the space. "F-for Scarlet. Please." It wasn't necessary for him to have said that, they knew who Krow was here for. He was here for only one of the girls, ever. He intended to take up as much time of Scarlet's as possible, it was all he could do until he made enough to spring her out of this hellhole. He was getting closer, he just needed a bit more, if he could find someone suitable--

A man entered, with a suit that screamed more money than (fashion) sense, and one of the kind of people Krow loathed for their mightier than thou attitude. All cause they won life's lottery by being born into extreme privilege. They still bled the same though.

He had put down an obscene amount of money at the counter, but the name her had given made Krow's blood run cold.

"Scarlet. Make sure all other appointments with her are canceled tonight."

How dare he. Krow clenched a hand into a fist, bringing it to his lips and biting into his first finger, eyes glimmering green. How dare he.

Scarlet came from one of the back rooms, and Krow pulled his hand back. Their gazes met, and she smiled at him, genuinely happy to see him, and he couldn't help but smile back. But the moment was brief.

The man stepped toward Scarlet, grasping her shoulders roughly, demanding he be seen, now. Krow heard her try calm him down, using that fake flirtatious voice of hers. This couldn't stand.

Getting to his feet, Krow quickly apporached the, grasping his arm rather firmly and making him turn to face him.

"G-get away from h-her."

Krow looked up to the man, eyes darkened, pupils an eerie, noxious green, yet the man seemed unperturbed by this, merely giving something like a scoff and a scowl.

"What are you doing here past your bedtime kid? Shouldn't you run along home to mom--"

There was a sudden shriek from the man as Krow had grasped his arm more, putting another hand on it, pulling it off from Scarlet's shoulder and twisting it hard.

"I said. Get. Away. From. Her."

Krow pushed the man away from Scarlet, moving in quick to stand between her and them, all the while glaring at the man. He rubbed a hand at the injured arm, shooting the much shorter man a glare.

"You little-- do you know who I am?!"

"N-no. And I-I don't care. Y-you're some l-lowlife s-scum that bullies his way w-with everything. I-I'm being nice. Get out. O-or I will MAKE y-you get out."

The man scoffs again, still holding his arm, and goes to the counter, rudely taking his money back.

"I will find you, you punk stuttering son of a bitch. My lawyers will hear about this."

"Do it. I-I'll LOVE f-for you to e-explain where this... altercation occurred." You won't live long enough to see the results anyway.

Another glare was cast from the man, as he took his money and left the brothel in shame, metaphorical tail between his legs. Krow soon after turned to Scarlet, eyes their normal violet hue.

"I-I'm sorry Dove, f-for being so aggressive. I-I just... I couldn't. F-forgive me? ...M-may we... g-go to the back?" He gives a small, meek smile, like a scolded child seeking forgiveness, with a yearning gaze.

This wasn't a scene he wanted to cause, and certainly if his Beloved weren't here now, he might go after that man. But that could wait another night. Tonight, he was with his Songbird, and he wanted to hear her sing.

[shockwaifuafterdark]

Greedy

Morgott x Male Tarnished Smut Snippet

My friend @cant-even-throw-straight is starting a big Morgott x Tarnished fic and I love Tashi, their oc for it, very much and have already written smut even before she's published the first chapter. Whoops.

Warning: here be porn. 18+ only please and thank you.

"Greedy," Morgott muttered, watching in rapt fascination as a fine thread of saliva still connecting their parted mouths bowed heavy then broke, leaving a glistening trail down Tashi's chin that already threatened to run yet lower. The man was so delirious that he didn't even move to wipe it away, too lost in the aftertaste of the kiss and the prominent swell of Morgott's knucklebones slipping in and out of his body to care, if he felt something so insignificant at all. What a mess his tarnished was. Perhaps he once would have scoffed at the sight of such excess, yet now the sight of the lovely ruin wrought by his own hands filled his chest with a strange sort of pride.

Tashi had often waxed lyrical of the beauty of reducing Morgott to a pathetic heap in pleasure. Though he still was not entirely sure what loveliness he saw in his twisted body, he was coming around to the act of breaking itself. As base as it was, he could not help but concede that this did have a sort of vulgar appeal to it, especially as their combined spit dripped down to his chest to mix with the rivulets of sweat and still tacky splatter of Morgott's own release.

"Is it really greedy?"

Tashi said, voice still breathless and rough but surprisingly put together. He never ceased to both impress and baffle, his dear partner did. That he'd even heard him considering his state was no small feat, and in respect, Morgott paused his prodding and raised a heavy brow to listen to whatever incoherent nonsense his love would give in explanation.

"I give myself entirely to you in exchange after all. There just so happens to be significantly more of you, so I do my best to make up the difference. You give so generously and I try to indulge in equal measure for both our sakes."

"Wouldst thou rather I call thee glutton?"

"Hmm, point taken. Greedy does have a more sensual ring. Though, even the foulest and most guttural language would sound like music if spoken in your voice."

"Glutton and sycophant," he amended, crooking his fingers with precise intent as he pressed the pad of his thumb firmly into his perineum. Any further quip Tashi had ready on his tongue fell away as yet another strand of dribble as he gurgled out a particularly wrecked noise. Morgott upped the pressure, turning that noise into a keen. What a mess his tarnished was: leaking from mouth, eyes, and cock, and still looking at him with such hungry intent despite having been at this for the better part of an hour, despite having ridden to his peak twice already.

Though his understanding of such activities was admittedly limited before this wild and reckless soul had quietly yet brazenly worked open the lock to his heart, he had no idea such things were even achievable. He had, his whole life prior, viewed his own pleasure as little more than another chore. An animal yearning for gratification, a distracting urge that he only entertained when it became impossible to ignore. He would take himself in hand and attempt to relieve his urges as quickly as possible, keeping his mind focused on his goal of completion, the stolen moment of bliss. His disgust at his omen hands befouled by his tainted seed kept him from repeating the action for long thereafter.

Oh, but his Tashi loved these omen hands of his, loved his tainted seed, loved everything about him. He begged for more, more, more. For Morgott to continue to work his body beyond the point of no return, to climb that cliff time after time, raw but too intent on loving every unsightly inch of him to care. Tashi wanted, and taught Morgott to want as well, and moreover to take. So take he did.

Tashi's legs were shaking, hardly able to keep himself standing upon Morgott's thighs as he straightened his fingers once again, spreading the two in as wide of a V as he could manage, still fascinated at the way the man's body stretched to accommodate him. He gazed again at his watery but intense eyes, his wet and flushed cheeks, and parted lips, and could not help but lean back down for another kiss. Even as his back ached from the held position, he surrendered to the sweetness of indulgence, for in truth, he had grown something of his own greedy streak.

[swiftsaltsweet]

Wednesday Season 2: Hyde in the Shadows (Fanfic)

Episode 1A: Woe-fore art thou Wednesday?

Characters: Wednesday and Enid (ft returning chars and new OCs)

Pairing: Wenclair

Important info: VERY Slow Burn, Canon Compliant (with season 1), read A/N For more details on everything.

Summary:  Stalking, murders, troubling visions, sins of the past, and a little bit of kidnapping. Wednesday's start of the second semester isn't a normal one, but when is her life ever "normal?" Wednesday has new mysteries to solve and catastrophes prevent, with the help of her overly enthusiastic roommate Enid, she just has to deal with some annoying relatives first.

Other Sites: AO3 and Fanfic.net

A/N: Can't wait for S2 so I'll make my own. Gonna try to keep it as canon compliant from Season 1 as I can. For those who care about ships, I do have plans for Wenclair but I hope you like a crock pot slow cooker cause that's what you're getting babes. You'll obvie have to deal with Ajax/Enid having/had feelings for each other (as well as me dealing/resolving the rest of this accursed love pentagon XP), again I'm being canon compliant. And that also means me trying to pace it more like the TV show (so enjoy my "episode" format).

Oh yeah OC warning, cause like…I kinda have to? It's not like we have a lot of characters and we'll need new people for new things. XP

Didn't know I'd be publishing it roughly right when Netflix announced S2! Was going to publish this when I knew I got ep 2 done but eh, que sera sera.

Anyway, not beta read, we'll live or die by my disembodied hands! ;w;/

________________________________________________________________

It was a cold late-January day, the last of the students were bustling through the gates of Nevermore, excited for the new school semester to come. Students said their goodbyes to their families, some more hastily than others. One such student was Enid Sinclair, a late bloomer werewolf at Nevermore.

"Ok sweetie, chin up, fangs on, claws out!" Enid's mother adjusted the collar of Enid's clothes.

"C'mon give us a growl," Enid's four older brothers howled.

Enid groaned inwardly, shooting her claws out and making a 'rawring' motion with them, "Grrr…." She attempted to growl, but only exceeded with placid enthusiasm.

She was a bright and cheerful girl who never, or at least usually, let anything hold her back…. even if said things were her older brothers and overbearing mother. Again, usually.

"Oh, you can do better than that!" her mother scoffed, rapping Enid's shoulder lightly, "Well…. never mind. I've learned to tamper my expectations." She then patted down Enid's newly long bangs, making sure it framed and covered the left side of her daughter's face just right.

Enid held back from rolling her eyes. She just needed to last a few more seconds and she could finally be free.

"Now you listen here, it's a new start of the new year, a lot can change! A lot changed last year, so-" Enid just nodded her head to whatever her mother was saying. It was probably something Enid heard a thousand times over the winter vacation anyway.

And did Enid have a very long winter vacation, both in a metaphorical sense and literal. Everyone at Nevermore had an early vacation due to the events that happened last year. Where there was a mass murderer running around, one of their teachers turned on them, had their principal killed, and summoned a racist pilgrim ghost. Understandably, the school closed its gates on the semester early so it could get itself sorted for the next year.

But Enid's break felt extra-long, possibly because of how much she had to spend with her family. Not that she didn't love her family, but they could really get under her fur at times. It didn't help much that all her friends were busy that winter.

She tried seeing if she could visit Yoko, one of Enid's closest friends who happened to be a vampire. Sadly, she was spending her break with family. It was a pilgrimage to the birthlands of her people. Enid was interested to hear the details of their trip but became squeamish when she realized one location involved people being pierced through with spikes.

The only person she was able to visit was her boyfriend, Ajax, a gorgon. Which would've been nice if not for her mother's judgmental attitude the whole time. Plus, she really wanted to spend some girl time with her other friends.

Enid easily ran through her vast list of friends, but all of them were busy, either for personal reasons or their families had taken advantage of the extra-long time off to spend as much time with their children before they shipped them back off to the boarding school for outcasts.

Enid's last remaining hope had been Wednesday Addams, her new bestie and roomie at Nevermore. They had a rocky start to their friendship, but Enid knew they totes got closer over the time they spent at school.

It was hard to describe Wednesday Addams, she was a peculiar person. She was a girl with a tongue as sharp as a knife and a personality as dark as the black clothes she wore; with a penchant for visions and detestable morbid hobbies, and a strange, detached hand as a….. pet? No, more like a family member. Enid still wasn't sure how Wednesday's disembodied hand, named Thing, was related to her family, but he had become a close companion to Enid as well.

She and Wednesday (and Thing) had been in close correspondence throughout the winter break, via letters. Despite another student at the school, Xavier, having gifted Wednesday a cellphone at the end of the school year previously. Wednesday was adamant to not use it, and insisted they only talk through letters. It was a bit archaic, but it was sweet in its own way. Enid's only issue is that Wednesday wouldn't come visit her. Nor would she let Enid come visit her own house.

Of course, Enid was dejected she couldn't spend time with them, but she respected Wednesday's boundaries. When Wednesday said "no" she meant it, and if you didn't listen, you'd probably wake up with one less finger on your hand.

And so, Enid's very long winter break was now over. She was able to see her friends again!

Enid wrapped up her goodbyes with her parents and brothers, hugging her father, dodging her brother's roughhousing, and ignoring her mother's final jabs of disapproval for something or other; and quickly ran into the school, keeping an eye out for her friends as she passed by. She made her way up to her dorm room, but was met with emptiness, sans her luggage.

Enid thought that Wednesday might be in, since it had been a few hours since she and her family had brought her bags up and gone out to eat. But it appeared that wasn't the case.

She sighed, and quickly turned out of the room and ran downstairs, keeping an eye out for anyone she knew, craving some kind of "human" interaction that she didn't share blood with. Still no one. She soon found herself at the foot of Edgar Allen Poe's statue, and an idea popped into her head. She looked around the corridor, and upon seeing no one there, snapped her fingers twice. A secret passage soon opened before her, and she quickly went through.

"There's too many people," Enid heard a regal voice complaining as she descended the stairs, it was Bianca, a siren and Queen Bee of Nevermore.

"I thought you loved the people's adoration!" a sarcastic voice rang out, it was Xavier, a psychic and King of Nevermore, "Isn't it the more the better?" The smirk he wore quickly flashed away after Bianca flicked his forehead.

"So, this is where you guys were hiding away," Enid announced as she bounced off the last step.

"Having a secret hideout does have its advantages," a nervous chuckle came from around the corner, it was Ajax.

Enid blushed and gave Ajax a hug before crossing to the other side of the room to stand near another siren and friend, Divina, "Sooooo, why are you guys hiding down here?"

"Like I said, 'Too many people,'" Bianca waved her hand lazily above her head, addressing the ceiling and the muffled kerfuffle above them, "The dorms are too crowded and noisy with everyone going to and fro. It's just easier to hide out here for the next few hours."

"Ah I see," Enid looked around the secret room, a special hideout for a club called the "Nightshades," just a place where a bunch of popular kids decided to hang out. Xavier, Bianca, Ajax, and the two siren twins, Kent and Divina, were there, but one last prominent member was missing, "Has Yoko not arrived yet?"

Divina pushed her lips and shook her head, "Nope, haven't seen her, but then again we've been down here this whole time."

"Weird, Wednesday isn't here either."

Enid began to ponder if the two goth girls were being held up by their families. Yoko could still be on her trip, and Wednesday….. Well, Wednesday once akin her parents holding her up to a boa constrictor slowly choking you….. but without the adrenaline rush. Enid assumed she meant that as a bad thing, but it was hard to tell with Wednesday sometimes.

Time passed in the chamber as the group of teens caught up. Many diving into detail about their break, and some not so much. The jovial atmosphere was soon disturbed with frantic running and crashing down the stairs.

"Yoko!" Divina exclaimed, rushing over to help her girlfriend up after falling from her frantic sprint, "What's the matter? What's going on?"

"It's Wednesday," Yoko gasped between breaths. Seeing the ever-coolheaded Yoko frantic made everyone feel on edge.

"What the matter? Did something happen?" Enid exclaimed, rushing over to Yoko.

"I-I-I don't know! Yes? No? She's-oh just- Enid! Follow me!" Yoko quickly turned back around and sprinted up the stairs, the Nightshade club and Enid hot on her tails.

Soon they arrived at a familiar place, the door to Yoko's dorm room. Was Wednesday in there? Why was she there? Has she ever been into Yoko's room before? Did Wednesday trash her room? Was someone dead? These questions swirled in everyone's heads, but especially Enid as she was close to both girls.

But before anyone could voice these questions to Yoko, she just opened the door, "Look!"

And so the group gazed upon Yoko's room and found it….. normal. Painfully normal, almost normie kind of normal. It was not something you would think would warrant Yoko's reaction.

"Um, Yoko, what are we supposed to be looking at?" Bianca said.

"Don't you see? Look!" Yoko spluttered, wound up and fearful.

Another look at the room. All the group saw was a normal dorm room. On one side, clearly Yoko's from the mixture of Harajuku fashion and gothic vampire horror, and her coffin lying in the corner of the room; and on the other side, light pink decorations adorned with a new roommate. Also dressed in pink. She sat on her laptop, not facing the group, typing on her computer like she didn't have a care in the world. The only real odd thing were the two dolls on her dresser, one was headless and the other was of a girl with an ax.

But that was all there was to it, it was a normal dorm room. Just one side was more gothic, and the other more typical girly. It almost reminded Enid of her own dorm room with Wednesday, with Enid being the colorful side, and Wednesday's side looking like something you'd find in a cemetery.

"Um, Yoko, I'm not sure what we're supposed to be seeing….." Enid trailed off. She was starting to worry for Yoko's wellbeing and feared she might be bothering Yoko's new roommate.

Yoko turned to Enid and pointed an accusing finger at her new roommate.

"It's that! That's the issue here! Do something Enid!"

Enid was shocked by how rude Yoko was being towards her new roommate by calling her 'that,' but also….. why was it something Enid had to do?

"I don't think I understand what's going on here Yoko, but don't you think you're being a bit rude to your roommate?"

"She's not my roommate, she's yours. Please collect her! She's scaring me!" yelled louder, now pushing Enid towards the other side of the room towards the pink cladded girl.

Everyone looked at Yoko stunned; she must've lost her mind.

"C'mon Yoko!" Enid laughed nervously, "Wednesday's my roommate, remember? There's no way she would get that close to the color pink. She hates color! She's even allergic, her skin will peel off she ever came in contact wit-"

"Hm? What's all this commotion?" a familiar voice chirped.

A chill ran down everyone's spine, it was a familiar voice, but it was off. It was too chipper, too nice sounding to be who they thought it was.

Everyone's eyes followed to where the voice was coming from and stopped at the girl with the laptop. The girl stood up, revealing a cute pink dress, and turned around.

A scream of horror was stuck in everyone's throat.

"What brings you all over?" Wednesday Addams, dressed in pink, smiled and asked the group.

***~***

Nevermore' s dorm walls were wracked with screams of horror, as Kent ran down the halls to get as far away from Yoko's room as physically possible. His twin sister would've followed, if she didn't stay to catch an almost fainting Yoko.

Everyone took a large step back in horror, everyone except for Enid, as she was more stunned than horrified.

The reason for such an adverse reaction was because…. Wednesday Addams did not smile. She did not wear pink, did not blush, did not curtsey, did not hold any glee in her darkened soul of a body. In any normal circumstance, if Wednesday Addams were to smile, it would mean someone was close to meeting a very undesirable fate, one worse than death.

There was only one person in this academy that was able to handle the very dark and dreary, the kooky, mysterious and spooky Wednesday Addams, and that was her roommate Enid. She had grown accustomed to her strange roommate, and so this reveal didn't not scare her as much as it surprised her.

She was almost a little annoyed, because really? If Wednesday was going to become more colorful, she could've at least asked Enid for some advice! This was exactly the kind of girl bonding time she so desperately wanted with Wednesday, and yet again she was left out of it.

Because of this minor slight, Enid couldn't help but feel a bit miffed with her next words.

"Wednesday, what are you doing?" Enid huffed, unafraid of the ex-goth girl.

Wednesday looked confused and a bit taken aback, "Um…. surfing the web?"

"The web? Like with a spider?"

"No, like with a computer," Wednesday looked at Enid with the sympathy you would give a head trauma victim, before gesturing over at the laptop on her desk.

Enid rushed past Wednesday and began inspecting her side of the room. Pink, pink, so much freaking pink. Fuzzy pillows, the book Little Women-the classic, not a book about women being shrunken down, the two strange female dolls, the prodigal laptop, and…. she was on Tik Tok?! This was not Wednesday Addams' desk, there's no way it could be. She was as allergic to modern technology and its social media apps as she was anything colorful.

With a quick snap, Enid turned on her heels, eyes locked onto the slightly shorter girl. She shot out her hands and pinched Wednesday's cheeks and began observing every small thing to see what else was different. Wednesday still wore her braided pigtails, with her bangs now pinned down to each side, and her hair looking a deep dark shade of brown instead of raven black. Her freckles were less noticeable, possibly because of the new color that was in her flesh.

Enid took a big breath, and even Wednesday's scent had changed too. Where Wednesday used to smell like dead flowers and a hospice, she now smelled like fresh dew and a field of flowers.

Despite the differences, she still looked like Wednesday. Same height, same dimple on her chin, and same cute little nose. For all intents and purposes, it was Wednesday.

But Enid couldn't shake the feeling that something was up. She had just been in correspondence with Wednesday not even two weeks prior, and she sounded the same in her letters as she always had. Did something so drastic change between then and now?

"Whaf arc your dowing?" Wednesday tried to speak through the pull of Enid's fingers.

Enid released the shorter girl, "Inspecting."

"Did I pass, inspector?" Wednesday took a step back, giving herself some space between her and the blonde.

"Wednesday, what happened?" Bianca was the first to recover.

"Hm? What happened? Oh, you mean over the break? Nothing much, just had a big family gathering. Saw everyone-oh! Uncle Fester did give me a minor case of electrocution during one of our family games," Wednesday giggled, "Oh you should've seen my hair it was so-"

"Wait, you were electrocuted?!" Xavier stepped forward.

"Yes, don't tell me you haven't been before?" she replied as if it was as if it was the most normal thing in the world, "Also I'm sorry, it got away from me while I was being manhandled," she dodged Enid, who was beginning to sniff and inspect her some more, "But who are you people? Well except you, I know you're my roommate! By the way, why did you run off and…. are you ok? You look unwell."

Yoko came to, "Wh-no! She's your roommate," Yoko pointed at Enid, who was glaring Wednesday's hand she was holding. Perfectly smooth, normal hand with pink nail polish. Wednesday pulled her hand away, but Enid just glared at her.

"But the principal said-"

"The principal is wrong!"

"You really don't remember any of us?" Xavier interjected.

Wednesday shook her head and trailed off unbothered, "Hmmm maybe my memories were messed with more than we thought…."

"You really don't remember anything?" Bianca started.

"Nothing about the murders?" Ajax continued.

"About joining the Hummers," Enid inquired

"The bloody Rave'N dance?" Yoko followed.

"How you kissed Tyler?" Xavier asked sullenly.

"She did what?!" Enid turned to him. Wednesday never disclosed an actual kiss to her. But she did with Xavier of all people? Enid didn't think Xavier was as close to Wednesday as she was.

"I did what?" Wednesday asked, with a small twinkle in her eye.

"The murderer!" Enid exclaimed back to Wednesday in disbelief.

"Ooo, I kissed a murderer?" Wednesday's eyes got brighter.

"Must not have been that good if you can't remember," Xavier scoffed smugly.

Enid looked around the room and saw no one else surprised, "You all knew?"

"It was kind of brought up by Tyler, when Wednesday was torturing Tyler," Bianca tried to soothe her. It barely placated Enid, but she let the issue drop.

"Torture?" Wednesday's eyes practically glistened with excitement.

"Um…. Do you remember how you beat us in the Poe Cup? How you punched Kent?" Divina interjected, trying to get back on track.

"That was Thing, not Wednesday," Enid corrected.

"How you ordered Thing to punch Kent?" Divina corrected.

"Speaking of Thing, where is he? Did you bring him?" Enid interrogated.

"No, no no no no, no too all of it, and why would I bring Thing?"

"Because we're besties!"

"You are?"

Enid was about to say something but was interrupted by a bone chilling voice.

"What is all this racket?" A sullen looking man came from behind the group of teens, Kent followed behind, no, was being dragged against his will behind him.

"Kent!" Divina scream-whispered at her brother, all he could give her was a shrug and look of confusion. It appeared that Kent didn't want to bring the mysterious adult with him, or even be in the room for that fact.

The group of teens, sans Wednesday, gave a wide berth to the intimidating man. He had his salt and pepper hair pushed back, dark circles under his red eyes, which all contrasted with his ghostly pallor, paler than most vampires due to his age. In all honesty, he looked like someone that might fit into Wednesday's family.

"Mr. Orlock, what brings you around?" Bianca said nervously.

"Principal Orlock, my days of teaching advanced conjuring are over. Now that Principal Weems is gone-may Satan take care of her-the board has decided I should be the one to take her place," Orlock started gliding around the room, herding the teens together like cattle, "So what, pray tell, is going on here."

He raised an eyebrow towards Wednesday, "You aren't causing trouble already, are you Ms. Addams? Didn't we just talk about how much trouble you got up to last year? I don't want any more incidents with the police."

"Oh, heavens no! I wouldn't dream of it, Principal Orlock! I promise I'll be, and I've been on my best behavior," The girl exclaimed in an over-the-top manner then mock sniffled, "It's just that they barged in here, started causing all this racket and were saying I should be living with the blonde instead."

"Enid!" Enid corrected exasperatedly.

"The blonde named Enid. And I'm just so confused, I was only trying to get a jump on my studies!"

"Wha-liar you had Tik Tok open- wait no that's not the point. She should be rooming with me! It makes no sense for her to be rooming with Yoko and-"

Principal Orlock held up his palm and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other hand, "I don't have time to deal with this foolishness! There will be no changes to the rooms at this time. That is my final word."

"But-," Enid started.

"No, 'buts!'" the elderly vampire growled, "No screaming, no running around," he glared pointedly at Kent, "No barging into rooms unannounced. I want move-in day to run nice and smoothly. Now, if this is not your dorm room! Disperse!"

With a click of his heel, he turned away. Wednesday only shrugged and chipperly skipped back to her desk, ignoring the rest of the people in the room.

Everyone started filing out, except for Enid, who practically had to be dragged away.

***~***

A week passed at Nevermore. A week since Wednesday's drastic change. A week since Enid practically cried herself asleep. A week since Enid found herself alone in her dorm room again.

Enid hated being alone, she'd rather be with her pushy, toxic pack mentality family than be alone. And now she found herself in a prison of solitude again.

And this state, probably is what drove Enid to do what she did this past week. Being pushy, trying to win Wednesday over again. All it did was push Wednesday away.

It didn't help that this "new" Wednesday was more sociable, having already gotten into her own little cliques before the start of their first 1st period class. People also changed how they talked to her, now addressing her as "Addams." The changes were becoming too much for Enid to handle. It was making her desperate. Oh, so very much.

But for the student body? They had accepted this change, embraced it. As for if it was because everyone just got used to it. Or because they were happy with a version of Wednesday not looking like she would murder them any minute, it was hard to tell. But Enid wasn't like everyone else in this case, she didn't accept the change. She rejected it.

Enid now sat alone at an obscure lunch table, while lunch was usually where she would hang out with friends, lately she'd taken up a new hobby of stalking a certain someone.

It was something new for Enid, stalking someone in real life. She was a pro at online "stalking," as she ran a big gossip blog revolving around the students in Nevermore and the neighboring town's students of Jericho. Thankfully(?), she did pick up on some more or less than legal tricks from Wednesday the semester prior.

"Stalking Wednesday?" a familiar voice spoke from behind.

"Again?" another familiar voice also chirped and sat down.

It was Xavier and Eugene, Wednesday's only other two close student companions at Nevermore. Well, Enid was sure about the latter, as Wednesday seemed to latch onto her psychic bee clubmate like he was a younger brother. The former? The relationship seemed to confuse Enid. While Xavier was infatuated with Wednesday, while Wednesday only ever gave him the cold shoulder.

"No, I was just…. Sitting alone in the dark corner of the quad because it's fun!" so maybe Enid wasn't that great at stalking….. or lying in this case.

"You're gonna have to face facts," Xavier started picking at his food, "She's changed…. And moved on."

He sullenly glared in Wednesday's direction, after the dorm room incident, Wednesday had been avoiding her old group of friends/acquaintances sans Yoko of course. At least the times when Yoko would be in her own dorm room and not hiding out in Divina's or Enid's. Yoko was terrified but wouldn't say why.

The only thing Enid was able to get out of her was some garbled sentence sounding like "Her clothes look mouthwatering." None of that made sense to Enid so she ignored it. Divina had a few choice words to say to her girlfriend though.

This new Wednesday was a lot more sociable, reserved in a friendly way, and very polite. She had been seeing Enid at other extracurricular activity events, she was never rude, but she always kept Enid at arm's length.

"I understand how you feel Enid, your room must be lonely without Wednesday, my shed's lonely with just me and the bees," Eugene sighed. He was so bummed he didn't even have the energy to hit on Enid, his ongoing crush for the past two years.

Enid ignored them, she just kept her eyes on Wednesday, how she was eating, chatting with friends, playing the knife game with their hands-well at least that sounded like the usual Wednesday.

Enid grounded her teeth in frustration, the change bothered Enid, so much so she felt obsessive. But she couldn't put her finger on why.

She kept staring at Wednesday, her hands, the way her cheeks rose when she smiled, the way her scent smelt like a bouquet of flowers-

Something clicked in Enid's head, "That's not Wednesday."

The two boys looked at her in alarm, after a tense moment of silence Xavier spoke first, "Enid, what do you mean?"

"Listen, I know it looks like her, but it's not!" Enid was surprised, she beamed at the two boys, "Don't you see? It's not her!"

The boys looked at her concerned.

"It just looks like her! I-I can't explain but…. ok maybe I can. It's a werewolf thing, her scent is different. Too different! There's no way it can be her!"

Xavier's eyes widened.

"There are also physical differences too! It just can't be her!"

"So, then who is that girl over there?" Xavier asked, very serious.

Enid stopped; she hadn't really thought about it until now. Who was that girl over there if she wasn't Wednesday?

"A…. clone?" she guessed.

"Or maybe a shapeshifter or changeling?" Xavier whispered.

"Wh-what if it's a ghost possession or it's just wearing her skin after it killed her?" Eugene added nervously.

"Killed?" Enid whispered, feeling her palms start to sweat. She had been so hung up on trying to reconnect with Wednesday, no, this fake, she hadn't thought about the real her possibly being in danger or dead.

Enid turned to Xavier, "You've read all those books in the Nightshade library, don't they have a clue? Are there any warning signs of some creature that lines up with Wednesday's unusual weirdness?"

Xavier snapped and shook his pointed finger at Enid, "No, but I think you might be onto something Sinclair. I'm going to get that right now."

"Are you going to cut class?" Enid asked.

"Yeah, if Wednesday's in trouble, it's better we get a hop on this sooner rather than later."

He had a point; Enid would rather get detention than have her best friend's body on her hands.

Eugene sat there pondering for a moment, "I think I have an idea that might work-I'll tell you what I find out later."

Enid looked at him suspiciously, "It better not involve you investigating the woods at night. If you wind up in the hospital again Wednesday will surely kill me!" Enid shuddered remembering how banged up the poor boy looked after the Hyde attack from last year. It really upset Wednesday to see her club mate lying in a coma.

Eugene beamed, "Don't worry, it won't be dangerous for me," he winked and slowly got up, "I'm going to make some preparations. I'll tell you if I find anything."

"Yeah, I'm going to start too, catch you later!" Xavier stated.

With that, the two boys got up from the table, and headed to the exits with other students who were dispersing to head to their next class.

With a sigh, Enid got up to do the same, unsure of how she could help. She begrudgingly walked by Wednesday's table. As Enid passed it, a gust of wind blew from behind her.

The young werewolf stopped in her tracks and snapped her neck around to look at Wednesday, her eyes wide like a mad woman. Wednesday looked back at her confused and alarmed.

And just as fast as Enid had turned around, she had turned back and started rushing out the quad doors. Ignoring Wednesday's new friends calling her all kinds of names.

Enid didn't care. All she could think about was the familiar scent she smelt.

She was going to need to pull another Wednesday Addams classic. She was going to do a B&E.

________________________________________________________________

A/N: (for the tumblr crowd, first time posting a fanfic on here, if anyone has any formatting tips let me know TT0TT)

I like puns, do you like puns? You're gonna have to deal with some puns. Lord help us all with what I name the next two seasons. 8U

Fun fact: Little Women was the book, if not at least a book, Lurch was reading in the 2019 animated film.

Fun fact 2: Wednesday used to wear Evergreen green and brown dresses in the Newspaper comics, and pink dresses in the 70s cartoon/tie in comic. 60s had a dark black/blue dress (hard to tell tbh).

Anyway, stay tuned for the second part of episode one! Now for this commercial break….

[roxenne-the-vixen]

(Sorry to send an ask out of character or whatever but I am just curious on WHY you decided to make your oc Valentino's daughter?? It's out of character for Val to care about anything let alone a kid so I can't see him giving special treatment for her-- other than making it something like...mary sue esque? I'm not asking to sound mean I'm asking just because I am literally just curious about it)

//not at all!! OOC questions are still totally okay to ask-- Besides I LOVE talking about my OC with people are willinly open to listening to me gush about her because I actually worked really really REALLY hard on her, her development her background and the connections, actions and reactions she takes as a whole--

As for THIS particular question thou-- LOL!!!!!!!!!

(Gonna put it under a read more because it's LONG)

Believe it or not, like-- It actually wasn't supposed to be a thing at all!

The whole Roxenne being Valentino's daughter thing is 1000% crack and started off as a big joke between me and a group of my discord crew friends who have written and interacted with her and over time it just sort of...became a thing that I dig,

HOW it came to be however was literally over something as simple as "Holy fuck my OC has like ALOT of the same quirks and Habits as this Trash Moth man...like...A LOT. and this was before we were given anything about Valentino-- She had these habits, such as--

*Rolling her Rs

*Slipping in Spanish words when she's angry (she is already HALF Spanish by default. Her other half is Italian)

*Leaning further into an accent when speaking with more expression and emotion

*Talking with her hands

*Love for her gun

*Threatening to hurt/kill people who mistreat her/piss her off

*Hot bloodedness

*Short fuse

*Brat attitude

And just-- many many more. Plus her demon form is a Lunar Moth-Fox hybrid--

Then were were given SOME bread comes of Valentino's character over the time it took to release the official show and and it hit me that (holy shit a lot of these things line up for them SO MUCH that they could literally be related, haha funny!"

So the jokes began that "She is Valentino's daughter and inherits A LOT from her father-- to which he is aware of-- and she is not (yet) so MORE jokes ensued and it just became a thing--

This is why my Valentino (@big-daddy-moth) can be caught making silly dash comms in relation to her that make him sound and come off as "A proud Papito" without him actually SAYING he's a "Proud Papito."

(He's a trash man. I know this. we all know this) So his way of handling her and treating her and talking about her is stilly shitty enough from the view point of seeing him as a dead beat dad who never actually WANTED kids but given his nature? Probably would have lots of bastard children in the wind--

--leaving room for this one to be one he actually knows about, just simply upon seeing and noticing how similar the two of them are--

He does give SOME form of special treatment-- but not to her directly--

It's usually small things like threatening/ or actually killing someone who threatened to kill/hurt her-- (Bitch that's HIS who the fuck do you think you are to think you can get away with damaging HIS things?)

Or finding something she says or does humorous with the undertones of "like father like daughter" or "I guess she IS her father's daughter after all~"

He handles her and the whole idea of her with a sort of--

"I don't give a shit about her (I give a little bit of a shit about her)" attitude. And her existance isn't known between anyone really (as of yet) except to him-- (And possibly VOX who could find out simply by clicking things together)

HOWEVER--

This is NOT true for EVERY Valentino!

It is literally ONLY for My Own. (@big-daddy-moth) I am multi-verse and multi ship so if there are Valentino writers whose Valentino would enjoy pestering a Tiny Stubborn New Yorker with an attitude-- I welcome them ALL at her door step. As the "Valentino is her Father" thing ONLY refers to my own and no other Valentino--

[ask-saro]

poke poke poke

i have two blogs im running at the moment, you can find them on my pinned :3

thinking ab tunning a murder drones based N one tho

(:0? *blink, thou shall be poked back* Pog! I will make sure to check them out and improvise questions and/or possible rp starters too ^^ also oo, alr! /pos /g /lh)

(I might add a muse of that fandom too on the blog where Blake is, maybe even a few more until they are moved to another blog but- Iii..never could really rp as Max, an OC from that fandom, before + gotta see if there’s info about his personality or improvise ;;=v= I can send you the pic that appears when searching that one if you want, though! /lh /nf)

[debatenarutooocs]

I'm actually really happy now after seeing more people come out and talk about Rozupan's odd "Holier-than-thou" attitude. I know in the past others have called her out for her oc being a Mary Sue or for the lack of actual Latino culture for her oc but not many people pointed the fact that she comes off as VERY conceited. I first noticed her tendency to humble brag not because of how many times she simps for her own oc but the times she thanked her fans for helping her reach a certain number of likes on a post. Like, we understand, Rozupan. Of course your post was going to reach 20k likes, this is YOU we're talking about. Have you seen your number of followers? I can completely understand if it's a smaller artist or if it's someone who feels that their artistic skills aren't good enough to receive many compliments or likes, but Rozupan has been doing this shit for YEARS even before her Instagram account so honestly she should be used to the amount of attention she gets. But instead she acts all "OMG IDK HOW I GOT THIS MANY LIKES UWU THANKS SO MUCH!!!" Which to people like me, an artist with a considerably lower follower count than her (who already feels self-conscious about their art) seems very odd and a bit annoying considering I actually DO have anxiety when it comes to people liking my art despite me feeling inadequate about it.

Not to mention the annoying tendency of praising her oc when Nico is basic as fuck. And I really liked Nico's original design, but know she just looks...off I guess. A character with zero substance who gets unrelenting praise from not just the fans but from her creator too. And I'm just here like, I'd like Nico so much more if I knew more about her tf? Why would I like her just because of the way she looks, with a personality being similar to that of a wet paper bag? I try not shallow like that. But Rozupan might be if she expects her fans to like Nico, who's a big fat nothing burger, just because she's attractive.

Other anon made a good point bringing up the fact that Rozupan behaves like someone who has a small following even though she's fully aware that's not the case. I'm not sure why she does this but because the way how she acts and talks about her own oc and other artists with a higher follower count it paints the image of someone who's a bit of an elitist. Top that with her getting offended over ANY ounce of criticism anyone might have of her oc as well as not owning up to the fact that she possibly made a self indulgent self-insert and you get someone who's actually not as humble or sweet as she makes herself off to be. The whole self-insert thing might be a bit of a stretch but the fact that someone complied actually proof of it makes me question her otherwise.

True if someone's oc is bland or if their oc's story has no "flavor" then how could they expect people to not criticize??They should learn to take feedback. I think she acts like she has small account because she wants people to like her so when they see Nickeru they will think positively about her. You might not realize but someone 's personality will affect the outcome of their oc on social media.

For example because of Rin mori and Kora's controversy, the drama and hurt they caused to random gaaoc people now whenever I see their ocs I get turned off. I bet there lots of people like me who probably don't even want to look at their ocs.

I also agree Nickeru's is a self inserted Mary sue because of the evidence that was posted, at least now I see Rozupan is trying to fix Nickeru's appearance.

[prismatic-starstuff]

Good Morning, Good Afternoon, Good Night.

— OC x Radahn.

CW: death, suicide.

"G-Good morning, my lord!"

It wasn't the first time they'd greeted the general like this, yet their heart pounded as though it was, their smile genuine but shaky. It didn't seem to matter just how long they'd been serving the famous Radahn... Their nervousness, that feeling of being awestruck whenever they saw him; it just never seemed to go away.

But it also didn't seem to matter how many times this would happen, because Radahn never seemed to mind. Each and every time, he would be warm and kind, a hand giving the soldier a firm but not painful clap on the shoulder as his arm slung casually around them.

"Now now," he began, tone playfully chastising as he gazed down upon them, "what have I told thee about that word...?"

"Sorry," they laughed softly, smile taking on a more bashful edge. "I keep forgetting that you'd... rather I spoke with you less formally."

"Forgetting?" Radahn's free hand went to his chest, and he effected an expression of appalled horror. "How couldst thee ever forget mine words?!"

"I... I'm sorry." They knew he was joking - the general was known and beloved for his good humour, after all - and yet the apology slipped from their lips nonetheless.

The expression on his face was somewhere between concerned and amused, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a sort of smile as his head shook. "Well... thou shall have many more chances to remember mine words going forward."

Their eyes blinked, head tilting. "H-How so, my lord?"

A grimace came over Radahn's face, and he raised his hand from their shoulder to lightly flick the back of their head. "Enough of the 'lord' business. I am barely any older than thyself!" Lighthearted chastising over with a clearly pretend sigh, he cleared his throat and continued. "To answer thy question... We are going to be spending more time together, of course!"

It was rather unbecoming of a soldier, the way their eyes widened with excitement upon hearing their general's words... so they hoped it wasn't noticeable. "I-Is that so?"

"Indeed! I am going to be setting out on a campaign, and I wish for thee to be there with me." Radahn's voice was full of merriment and warmth; it was almost enough to ease the worry in their heart.

...Almost. "You— You want me to come with you? Are you sure?"

"Of course!" The response came so quickly, so naturally, that it warms their heart. "...Without thy presence there, who else would say 'good morning' to me?"

...Their eyes widened for an entirely different reason, lips momentarily tightening with something between hurt and anger, until the general's good-natured laughter broke them from their thoughts.

"Ahh, I jest, I jest! That was cruel of me... I shall take a leaf from your book: I'm sorry. Really."

That first campaign together had been the first of many; and as it goes, Radahn really hadn't wanted the soldier solely for their warm greetings. (He did like them, though.)

Every day he would lavish praises upon them for their skill with the sword, for their tactical prowess... Every campaign, he would enthuse about how he would always have them by his side if it were possible... After some time, it had gotten to the point where some of the other soldiers - some good-natured, others less so - would murmur and whisper and crack wise about the general having a favourite.

('For the record,' Radahn had slurred in their ear one night over one too many casks of ale whilst celebrating a victory, 'I don't. ...Now, off the record; that's another matter entirely!')

"Good afternoon, my friend!"

The soldier announced their arrival with a knock at the door and their usual greeting; and since they'd been told so many times by the general that they didn't have to wait for his say-so to come in, they carefully shifted the basket they carried to one arm so they could open the door more easily.

"Mm?" Bleary-eyed, Radahn lifted his head from where it had been laying on the table where they'd usually lay out battle plans, and for a moment it seemed as though he wasn't sure where he was. "...Ah, 'tis thee, cully. Always a welcome sight."

His smile never failed to warm the soldier's heart... but their own was not quite as convincing. They'd been growing increasingly worried about the general ever since he'd returned from doing battle with Malenia's forces; he'd claimed the rot she'd unleashed had 'barely touched him,' was 'nothing to worry about,' would 'be over before they knew it...'

And yet, they'd watched how he'd changed. How his body was doubling in size seemingly by the month. How the flowing red mane he was so proud of was becoming brittle and dull. How his mind and memories would seem to slip and fail him now and again.

They could hardly believe the rot had 'barely touched him' when they were being sent out to procure medicines to counteract that very rot.

"Now now..." Their distress must have been more obvious than they'd hoped, because a large finger was tapping at their forehead, and Radahn was fixing them with a familiar look of faux-disappointment. "What have I told thee about worrying, hm?"

"...I can't exactly help it," they sigh softly, settling the basket of medicine down on the table.

"Oh... Should I take this as a sign that—" Radahn effected a scandalised gasp, "—I am, in fact, your favourite too?"

A chuckle escaped them despite themself, and now it was their turn to reach out to flick his forehead; gently, though. "Well... I mean... off the record and all..."

"Ha!" There was a gnarly wheeze at the back of it lately, but the general's laughter was as delightful as always. "I knew it..." His eyes were full of warmth as he laid his head back down, fatigued yet still as mischievous as always. "Just wait. When I am recovered... when this darkness has passed... I will show thee just how well I treat my favourite."

------

Radahn never did recover. Time passed - it could've been days, it could've been years, it could've been centuries - but the darkness never did; his condition only deteriorated, the warm and loving man they knew slipping away until he finally vanished into the desert one day.

They'd remained at his castle, right up until the day of the festival. It was the site of their fondest memories, their days spent in the general's kind company; Redmane itself had become an embodiment of those days.

...But those days were gone, and so too was Radahn.

When the day of the festival finally came, so too did their acceptance.

The battle had been long and fierce. They hadn't seen their general in person for so long; and even though the colossal figure riding wildly at the other end of the field was nearly unrecognisable to them... Radahn still managed to make them feel that incredible sense of being awestruck, right up until the end.

The dust had cleared. Those who had fought in the festival had departed. All that remained of the clash was the dust of the desert mingling with the damned rot that had cursed them all... the general's form, still curled protectively around his beloved steed... and the soldier, kneeling with him.

One hand reached out to lightly touch one of Radahn's tusks; and the other held tight to the blade they'd swung in his service so long ago, steadily raised it to their own neck.

Their long life had gone on long enough, and they found no regrets in their actions.

It was their last wish that, just as they'd hoped for in better days, the two of them really would be together always.

And as their vision dimmed, and their grasp on his tusk grew weak, one last phrase passed the soldier's smiling lips:

"Good night... my love."

[antiloreolympus]

7 Anti LO Asks

1. Do you know what really gets my blood boiling about this comic? Persephone and Demeter's relationship.

In the myths, Demeter and Persephone loved each other more than anything. Their reunion is so important - it marked the coming of spring and growth. A whole cult was dedicated to this for crying out loud. Yes, the myths were far from perfect, but the Persephone and Demeter myth showed the strength of a loving mother-daughter relationship with Demeter searching endlessly to find her child that was ripped away and had her innocence forcibly taken.

Now, RS is not the only author to make Demeter this over-bearing mother type in order to put more positivity onto the Hades-Persephone relationship. However, RS takes this trend to a whole new level - to the point where I would even consider it misogyny.

How is it, she takes this beautiful mother-daughter relationship and makes it out to be an abusive and controlling one, and then takes the Hades-Persephone relationship from a forceful one to a loving, perfect relationship with no problems? How is it ok to ruin one relationship to elevate another?

I understand that many versions of the myth try to downplay Hades' actions, and even make it so Persephone actually falls in love with him and there is no rape. But it doesn't change that this relationship was problematic, and meant to represent the loss of innocence.

Then fans have the gall to claim this comic is feminist and then claim on top of that that Demeter and Persephone's relationship was the same in the myth? These fans clearly don't know the myths, and neither does RS.

Making Hades a good person is fine. Changing it up a bit to make Persephone's loss of innocence something else is also fine. But ruining Demeter and Persephone's relationship? Especially when Persephone has to spend half the year with her? So horrible. 

2. im sorry, but rachel cant introduce KRONOS coming back and then dropping it for several episodes to focus on a stake-less trail and persephone not knowing what lingerie to seduce hades in. like thats too much of an earth shaking development and huge stake plot point to just ignore for months to focus instead on something as minor as hxp's relationship, which only points out a huge flaw: why is hxp's relationship so minor in this? isnt the whole point supposed to be about them?

3. I think LO completely dropped the ball over Hades’ characterization. 

From the first ep I thought ok, this is good, we have some bones to see he’s not that lucky in love and is just tired and lonely, and while ignoring the creepy actions towards Persephone, I thought ok, Artemis hates him, Hestia hates, even Ares hates him, maybe once Persephone finally sees the underworld and probably gets to know him it’ll be a clever twist and they’ll be proven wrong. The underworld will turn out to be fair and just, the citizens will love Hades, he’ll be revealed to be a good leader and king and not like his brothers, it’ll be like everyone saying Hades of myth isn’t actually that bad, and it’ll help reinforce why this sweet and bubbly Persephone wants him, she sees the real him, not the mean rumors and assumptions, this is perfect.

And then it just didn’t happen. The exact opposite happened, actually.

We’re shown the LO underworld is cruel and unjust, where the poor dead are forced into slavery and Hades created a harsh class divide with him and him only on top, the citizens hate him, the underworld gods don’t trust him and openly seem ok if he’s taken out of power, he’s not a good leader and king and doesn’t even want the job yet keeps it for his own ego and grip of power m, and on top of it all he is just like his brothers, if not worse. He loves to get violent over any little slight against him, he hoards wealth and resources to enrich himself while his citizens starve and struggle to survive, he’s corrupt, he controls all the media and laws to bend to his will, sleeps with his brothers wife for centuries behind his back while claiming to be holier than thou, he has sex with his secretaries who are made dependent on him for any way to survive, and now he lusts after his barely legal intern who is also now dependent on him for her way to survive, and that’s only what I remember off the top of my head.

LO perfectly set up to prove Hades isn’t the devil or the false pop culture assumption that he’s evil and to show some actual facts from myth, and yet Rachel only ended up reinforcing exactly that and even making him even worse with her made up ideas, all while thinking having Persephone ignore or excuse it somehow makes it not bad or even a good thing. It’s honestly kind of impressive just how bad of writing that actually is. 

4. Chapter 172 is not that interesting. It’s setup had me excited to see Hephaestus and Hera and learning more about echo, but it’s cut so short. Because again the story can’t leave HXP out for 2 seconds.

I can also see why Zeus is gonna go insane. 

5. i agree w/ other anon. LO should have pulled a PJO or a BoZ and just made up OCs and have them interact with the gods than whatever Rachel thinks shes doing, which is lying she's being accurate and faithful while completely changing all of it, removing what is needed, and adding what isnt so that it lines up with no actual myth besides like, various 50 shades fanfic she read in 2015 and some popular tumblr text posts.

6 . the animation studio behind blood of zeus literally can only draw one face for the men and one face for the women and they were still able to make the gods all look distinct and hot while LO can't even bother to use more than 6 colors and can only have the women look as tiny as possible with the biggest boobs while the men are all just lego men.

7. ////FP SPOILERS////

Okay so like I stopped reading LO way back before season 1 ended, and a majority of my knowledge of the series comes from what I read here on your blog which is enough for me lol and I decided to read the latest 5 chapters just to see what's up (on zahard. I refuse to give the actual series any views)

And I just. Could not take the whole scene with Daphne running from Apollo seriously? The anatomy and art inconsistency was so distracting that i genuinely could not find it serious. Even when Thanatos discovers her hibernated body I couldn't take it seriously because of how she looked?

And when Hades had that call (??? Was it a call? Or his inner dialogue? I couldn't really tell ngl) with Zeus and said he's causing Persephone unnecessary distress, and that she didn't pose any threat. B!tch??? She killed a ton of mortals??? She has no control over her powers???? She's literally a fugitive for the aforementioned things??? She apparently woke Kronos up? (Idk if anyone knows about that, again my knowledge only spans to whatever I read here) Hello????

And I have a lot to say about the chapters starting the trial but I'll only mention one thing; Hades saying "I don't think blindly supporting my little brother would be doing him any favours (as a ruler)" had me cackling. This is coming from a guy blindly supporting a girl he's literally only known for a few weeks, who's like what, only recently turned 20? Sit tf down Hades you're not cool, you creepy ass overgrown smurf.

Overall I still hate this series lmao. Regarding art though I feel like I wouldn't be so miffed about the anatomy much if the character designs were consistent and the story was compelling. They literally change hairstyles and body types frame by frame, and it's distracting.

The timeline from what I read here is laughable. 4 years in publication with almost 200 chapters and you're telling me only like a month has passed canonically. That's wild and such poor writing.

And as someone who literally will sympathise with any lead character pretty quickly, the story makes me hate them. It makes me want to root against them. I also hate the fact this trash is somehow top ranked on webtoons when so many other stories are far better then it.

Anyway, many thanks to this blog for existing and allowing me to dump so much text here to vent out my hate for this series lmao. You the mvp fam, hope you're having a good day 🥂🥂🥂

[fyeahnevilleslongbottomsocs]

YOUR FINGERPRINTS ON MY SKIN, A PAINFUL REMINDER! ⚰️ CAN BE READ ON AO3

❝Catherine Cullen, born out of wedlock to the late Carlisle Cullen and Elspeth Fynch, struggled to live in the village that had ostracized her since birth. At nineteen, her only chance for survival is to sell her body; ironically this is what leads to her mortal demise. Aristide Athanasiou of the Volturi, finds a Blood Singer in the form of Catherine Cullen after intending to kill her, but he spares her. And he spares her over and over again until the painful reminder of her beating fragile heart becomes too much for him to bear.❞

part of PETALS FOR ARMOR a twilight au series of one-shots! please read tags before reading the one-shot!

warnings: mild smut, blood kink ( ??? im not sure about this but just in case ), prostitution, possessive behaviour

pairing(s): OC/OC | Carlisle Cullen/OC ( past relationship )

characters: catherine cullen ( oc ) | aristide athanasiou ( oc ) | aro ( mentioned ) | carlisle cullen ( mentioned ) | elspeth fynch ( oc )

click on ‘keep reading’ if you prefer to read this one-shot on here instead of on ao3!

RED EYES BURN into her pale freckled skin, they belong to a young man of the name Aristide. Catherine Cullen doesn't have to turn around to know it's him, he's the only one who ever looks at her. Her freckled skin and long messy, matted strawberry-blonde hair made her less than attractive compared to the other women in the area, and, of course, there was the fact she was a bastard child. None of the local men wanted her and the village scarcely brought in travelers. Catherine loosens the buttons on her late husband's old white blouse, exposing her the chest before turning around. The young woman nearly gasps when she sees that Aristide is standing right behind her. She had expected him to be across the street, where he normally waited, every night that she came to these parts for the past month and a half. If she thought about it, she would reckon that it was unusual, scarcely any traveler stayed this long but he paid her well so who was Catherine to complain.

She clutches her chest inhaling sharply. Before she can scold him for startling her, Aristide reaches up in a swift movement and brushes over her bruised cheek "My sweet singer, what harm as befallen thy cheek," He questions her in honey-coated voice, his fingers are freezing against her skin but it feels good against her throbbing cheek. Sometimes Catherine thinks that Aristide feels to cold to be truly alive. He was a strange young man, the strangest she had ever encountered.

"It is nothing, Aristide, merely Pastor Cullen," Catherine says, "He does detest me so, and with his old age —"

"You should forbear attending —"

"You know that I cannot do that, Aristide," Catherine says fiercely, more fiercely than she intends to. The last thing she needs to do is scare of the only paying customer she has but that place meant so much to her mother. Even though Pastor Cullen had always treated her and her mother terribly, her mother, Elspeth Fynch, had insisted that they go as often as they could. Her mother had said that the place was very important to her late father, Carlisle Cullen. 

"He is old, Aristide. I have heard gossip that he is appointing a new pastor soon."

"Has thou? I am sure it shall be his son, that cannot be much better," Aristide says, sarcasm dripping from his tone and he's met with a solemn look.

"Afraid not, his son went missing nearly twenty years ago," Catherine says quietly, "On one of those vampire hunts, his father planned . . . No one knows what happened to him, we do not talk about it but I have heard many good things about the man."

Her mother had talked highly of him, Carlisle this and Carlisle that, was what had filled Catherine's childhood. Her father was all her mother talked about, his death had left a hole in Elspeth's chest and if he had not died than nobody would have known that Catherine was born out of wedlock and she wouldn't be facing the poverty that she is now. And perhaps her mother would not have perished so brutally upon that pyre all those years ago. Talking about Carlisle Cullen now did nothing but leave a bitter taste in Catherine's mouth. 

Aristide frowns, he wonders if it's possible that the missing man had found real vampires and if he did that would mean, he's still around somewhere. Aristide had not sensed any in the area but there are plenty of sewers that they can hide in here. He pulls Catherine closer, she was his and his alone. Aristide had been passing through London when he seen her wandering the streets late at night, in need of money for medicine. In fact, Aristide had not met a single supernatural creature in this town, not even a witch and they were almost everywhere. Although just because he had not sensed another vampire around, it doesn't mean they weren't there, they could have easily found a mundane scent to cover theirs up, the son she spoke of could still be around, hidden in the shadows, it would make sense as to why his father had survived so long without a single uprising to his medieval ways. This son could be hidden somewhere, anywhere in this village which means Aristide would have to keep a closer watch on Catherine.

He had not meant to grow so attached to Catherine, he usually killed his blood-singers hours after encountering them but for some odd reason he found himself besotted with Catherine. Aristide had know her for a month or so by now. It started on a night quite like this and her alluring scent sang to him, her scent was much better than her appearance, she had been near this exact spot looking for anyone willing to pay her for sexual favours. He had given her the money in exchange for her to come back to his home where she believed that they would have sex but he had other plans. Catherine was supposed to be his dinner that night but as soon as the door closed behind her and he moved to pounce, she kissed him hard against his open mouth. The very same mouth that had been seconds away tearing through her jugular and draining her of her life. After that Aristide couldn't bring himself to kill her, he let her kiss him hard over and over, pressing hot and wet kisses on his mouth and down to his neck. It ignited a feeling in him he hadn't felt in centuries and he knew he had to keep her around, for the past month he's been coming to this dump of town just to see her night after night. Some nights, she wasn't there because she had made enough money to pay for the medicine of the little girl that lived near her. Aristide doesn't understand why she bothers to work so hard for someone that isn't herself but he's grown to adore it because that means she has to be here to do it.

Catherine presses a clammy hand to his face "Aristide, are you alright? You have grown tense . . . Have I done something to upset you?"

"No, my sweet singer, I am cold, it has naught to try with you." Aristide says, pressing a kiss to her forehead with causes her to shiver.

"Indeed, you are freezing . . . Shall we go back to your place and warm ourselves up," Catherine offers, pushing herself against Aristide's cold body. She looks up at him through her pale lashes, his red gaze is hot, it feels as though it's burning straight through to her wicked soul.

"That sounds enchanting, ma chérie," Aristide says smoothly, whispering in her ear. And off they go, arm in arm to Aristide's 'place' hardly a block away.

Unlike the last few times, Catherine does not throw herself on him immediately after the door closes behind her and as much as he'd love to see her naked body writhing with pleasure and bathed in the candle light, he assumes she's grown fond of him; she must trust him now. He licks his lower lip, it was naïve of her to trust him but something about the thought of earning her misplaced trust excited him.

He lights the candles and she sits down on his bed, technically not his bed but the person who owned it before he killed them, but Catherine doesn't need to know that. He smiles at her and she smiles back at him albeit a bit hesitantly, her heart speeds up and he wonders why — could it be she possibly fancies him?

Catherine's desperate, desperate enough to give her body time and time again to a man she's quite certain is the devil. He has red eyes and he's perfectly perfect and oh so tempting. There is no way that Aristide is human but she never dwells on it for long, she needs the money. Agatha is sick and her parents are even sicker, Agatha relies on her, Catherine couldn't let her down and she doesn't care if she's sinning or not.

He stalks towards her slowly and comes to a stop between her legs, he lifts her head up with a finger and leans down to kiss her, slowly but passionately. Her heart skips a beat as she kisses him back, she reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck, he snakes his arms around her waist. Aristide starts trailing kisses down her mouth to her neck, allowing her to catch her breath as he didn't need to stop to do that. He kisses her neck, finding her pulse-point with ease, he kisses the spot again and again, then he gently drags his teeth against her skin which elicits a quiet moan from her. So unaware how close she is to death, he pulls away to study her, her eyes are closed and her pink lips are swollen. Freckles coat her face as well as her exposed shoulders, Aristide is sure that every inch of her is covered in freckles, making her look like a constellation in the sky.

Catherine lies down on the bed, she smiles up Aristide as she slowly begins to untie her dress, he reciprocates her smile as he begins to unbutton his petticoat. By time he's pulled his blouse of, she's untied her outer-layer corset, she shivers again and he wonder if his home is really that cold. He, of course, wouldn't truly notice.

"It is cold in here," Catherine whispers, her pale face flushed, as her thin fingers begin to remove her blouse, Aristide can see that they're trembling and he frowns. He had forgotten how sensitive humans were to temperatures.

"Keep it on, my sweet singer, you will be warmer that way," Aristide says, and it will be easier for her to leave quickly in case something goes wrong. He unbuckles his trousers, Catherine hums in response abandoning her attempt to undress herself and instead busies herself with watching him, she takes in his too perfect features, his long black curls which were pulled back with a thin white lace. His pale skin seems to glimmer in the light of the candles, he was heavenly-looking, almost god like. But every moment with him felt like a sin.

Once Aristide has kicked off his trousers, he crawls over her and listens to her heartbeat race. He settles himself between her legs and pushes her long skirt down to her waist to expose her thin and freckled legs. They're covered in bruises especially her thighs, and they're all from him, as gentle as he tries to be with her he always leaves evidence of his strength. He tugs off her undergarments, his calloused fingertips brushing against her inner most thighs as he does so.

She hisses at the harsh coolness but arches her hips towards him nevertheless, He smirks at her and says "Eager are we now, ma chérie?"

Catherine nods her head, whimpering. Playing it up because she just wanted to get this over with, she doesn't hate it and she quite enjoys their time together but she wishes he would be quicker. She just needed the money, Agatha is relying on her. If they got this done with quicker, she could probably get home in time to make some soup for Agatha and her parents. Aristide was the only good man she had ever been with, outside of her marriage, but this was never about good, this was about survival for not only herself but those she cared about. It was nothing more than that.

He chuckles, grabbing her legs and pulling her close. Their hips meet and Catherine shivers violently at the feeling of his freezing body pressed against her already cold one, Aristide hushes her, stroking her cheek in a gentle manner as he tells her to sit up. Catherine does as he asks, they're so close their bodies were practically one. Although she, herself, felt cold, to him she felt like a raging fire against his own cold, undead skin.

His finger traces her lips before pulling her into a bruising kiss, she hisses against his lips but the hiss turns into a pained moan as he thrusts into her. He's careful as he can be, she's a delicate flower compared to him and he could easily kill her this way. He pulls away from her, muttering "You're beautiful," against her bruised cheek. How he longs to taste her blood, her skin itself was surprisingly sweet and he's sure that her blood is even sweeter.

"Thank you, sir," She mumbles, bucking her hips into his. Quiet pants and moans escape her chapped, swollen lips. She grips her skirt tightly, her eyes screwed shut and Aristide watches her every expression with keen interest from the smallest twitch of her eyebrows to more noticeable action of her mouth falling open as louder moans fall from her lips. He's learned to let her do most of the moving because it results in less bruising, at first he didn't care but as their intimate encounters grew closer together, he had grown fond of her and her safety.

He gently moves his hands so they're entangled in her hair, he pulls on her matted locks slightly. Her strawberry-blonde hair appears almost golden in the glow of the candles. If she had the ability to take care of herself, she would have been breathtaking. Catherine, in Aristide's opinion was unique for a mortal. He could give her the power to be so much more than that, he had thought about it for an agonising amount of time. But, Aristide had never turned someone before, it was usually Aro who did that and Aristide had went alone this time around. 

Her heart pounds loudly, mocking him and his cowardice. He was afraid to turn her, he could kill her instead and for the first time in his immortal life, Aristide did not want to kill. He thought about bringing her to Volterra but he thought it unlikely that Aro would turn her, Catherine appeared to be lacking a gift, in other words, useless to Aro. But, she meant everything to Aristide. 

His name is whimpered, as he tugs a little harder on her hair, Catherine's hips press into his. Momentum is growing, a feeling akin to being alive grows inside him, Aristide moans lowly. He swallows the venom pooling his mouth and presses his lips to her shoulder, over and over and over, slowly moving up to her jawline.

After a few minutes, her moans get louder and her legs start to shake but Catherine does not cum. Typically the mortal doesn't last this long but Aristide had taken it slower tonight, mostly lost in his thoughts. But now, it was getting harder for him to ignore his bloodlust, he trusts into her hoping that it would be enough to push her over the edge but it's not. All he earns in a loud, pained moan and then she bites down on her lip hard and draws blood which is enough to send him spiraling over the edge. He inhales sharply as he does his best to restrain himself, he grips her skirt so tight that it tears. Aristide doesn't want to kill her, she's too precious, too good to be killed no matter how good her blood smells.

He pulls away from her, stumbling backwards and he hears her whine quietly as she sits up. She goes to ask for her pay but she falls short upon seeing the ravenous look on his face, her grin turns into an uneasy frown "Aristide, are you alright, have I done something wrong?" 

"Get out," He hisses, he wants nothing more to tear her apart, he wants to completely destroy her just for a drop of her precious blood, "Get out now!"

Catherine scrambles out of his bed, looking terrified out of her wits as apologies profusely fall from her lips, she tries to move closer to him but he throws the first thing he can grab — a pot — in her direction and he screams "GET OUT!"

For a moment, Aristide expects her to flee, he hopes that she will but Catherine surprises him and she stays. Stupid, foolish girl. 

Her eyes, blue as Aristide remembers the Mediterranean Sea to be, are wide with fear. Her bloodied lower lip is quivering but she stands motionless and determined. And although, Aristide would never raise a hand to her, he understands why the pastor raises his hand to her; she doesn't seem to obey what she's been told to do. 

"The money," Catherine says, trying and failing to keep her meek voice steady, "I did what you wanted me to do, if you're done I would like my pay." 

A thin line of blood trickle down her lip and onto her chin, his red eyes zero in on it. Catherine's words become lost to him, her pounding heart is all that Aristide can hear and he can no longer control himself. He lunges, she screams. 

He takes her out easily, his teeth tear into her jugular with ease, her scream becomes muffled by the blood filling her mouth, some of it splatters against Aristide's pale cheeks. It tastes much better than he ever imagined, Catherine was not the first Blood Singer he had encountered the many centuries he had been alive but she was by far his favourite. 

Her hand slams against his chest in a feeble attempt to fight him off but all she gains is a broken wrist. The snapping of her bones brings Aristide back to reality, he remembers that he doesn't want to kill her and with great difficulty he pulls himself away from her. Catherine screams meekly, her voice hoarse already, blood pools out of her mouth as she rolls onto her side and curls into herself. Her small frame trembles violently with every sound, the venom spreads through her veins like a forest fire, she has no idea what's happening.

Aristide watches with keen interest, he had seen Aro turn lots of people but it seems different now, a whole new experience for his old soul. Every tremble and every scream from her excites him. 

"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop," Catherine screams over and over, she grits her teeth together after every word, eyes squeezing shut as she hugs herself around her middle, writhing violently on the wood floor, her words fade from harsh and hoarse screams to a soundless chant. 

Aristide reaches out, brushing her hair out of her face, she looks at him with complete and utter betrayal, she whispers a plea for him to put her out of her misery. He doesn't, his bright red eyes zero in on the bite he left on her neck. It was not as clean as Aro's and it would leave a nasty scar, Aristide thinks that it will look much better than the bruises of his fingerprints ever did on her. His bloodied lips pull into a satisfied smirk, she was his forever now. 

[dholwrites]

Work Out the Knots

Notes: Commission piece for @fuu9266. This has the ending to Shadowbringers! Relationship: Thancred Waters x WoL OC [Fuujin Lorelei] Rating: E Summary: After the battle against Hades, Fuujin and the Scions return back to the Crystarium where a party is being thrown to celebrate the return of the night. Thancred slips into her room for a massage and more.

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

Thancred takes a long sip of the cold water in his cup as he eyes the other party-goers. A round of cheers erupt from nearby patrons, clinking their mugs before emptying them all in one go. Whoops quickly follow as they watch a dwarf drink another blond-haired hume under the table. It’s the first celebration to mark the beginning of a new era, and the leader of the Crystarium is quick to suggest a party to welcome the night and the heroes’ safe return. Drinks and food are served around the clock as everyone takes advantage of the Exarch’s generosity to eat and drink as if they’ve been given a new life.

As much as he wishes to join them, Urianger’s constant presence has become more than a thorn in his side. The elezen had threatened to share every detail of his past endeavors if he so much as eyed a goblet of ale for a moment too long. How Urianger managed to get his hands on certain details will have to remain a mystery; one he doesn’t want to unravel, at least not tonight. Especially when he is keen on making sure that Fuujin and Ryne don't hear any of his past escapades. While Fuujin knows of some of the things he’s done in the past, now that he’s in a committed relationship with her, he wants to avoid the topic as much as possible.

The hyur searches the area for his favorite miqo’te, only to realize that he can’t even catch a strand of her black hair. He lets out a small huff when he can't spot her at all and settles deeper into his seat. Both Urianger and Y’shtola are quick to pick up his change of demeanor. Any of the Scions could tell how smitten he is with his mood bouncing up and down depending on how long their Warrior has been away. Thancred would become snappy and anxious when Fuujin doesn’t check in right away.

“She is taking the younglings back into their room, Thancred.” ‘Master Matoya’ peeks at him over the brim of her teacup. There is an amused twinkle in her eyes before she glances in the direction of the city’s personal suites. It isn’t hard for him to figure out what she is implying.

He could feel his face grow warmer and warmer as Y’shtola snickered under her breath at his suffering. Deciding he’s too tired to deal with any more teasing, he downs the rest of his cup and turns to leave before the other two could utter a word. “I’ll see myself off.”

Urianger only lets out a sigh as he watches their friend march towards the suits before turning to Y’shtola. “Privy, thus thou provth he?’”

She only flashes him a mischievous look before pouring herself another cup. “It’s no longer our problem.”

-

Instead of making his way to his own room, his feet brought him to her front door. Thancred raised his hand to knock, hesitating just a moment when he could hear some shuffling inside. He barely managed to get three knocks in before the door swung open to reveal Fuujin, still dressed in her Thavarnian outfit with the bells, gold chains, and arm wrappings removed. It’s an outfit that reminds him of the performers that he’d seen in Limsa.

“Finally had enough for today?” She teased with a smile before stepping aside for him to enter, the miqo’te returning to put away her gear for the day.

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

Thancred lets out an annoyed huff as he nudged the door shut behind him, his eyes never once leaving her form. He’s seen her well over a dozen times in her white dress, not to mention without it, but the effect it has is still prominent. He wishes to reach out, to trace his hand across her back and along her waist, to feel her warmth under his palm; to feel her tan skin pressed against his, her black hair between his fingers, and see her sky-blue eyes grow hazy with pleasure. His own eyes could never stray far from her before they’re naturally pulled back to her form, like a moth drawn to a flame. She entranced him.

He starts to toss off his own gear, setting his cherished gunblade on the table and shrugging off his long coat to hang off the back of a chair. A groan slips out as the heaviness slips off his shoulders. He rolls them in an attempt to relieve himself of some of the pain, not to mention her burning gaze boring into his back.

“Liking what you see, Fuu?” He flexes his arms for good measure despite his muscles protesting, yet the laugh and smile he spots from the corner of his eye is more than enough to make up for it.

“You seem a little tense.” Her fingers press against his shoulders, feeling the knots that have formed there.

“My back is killing me, but nothing a hot shower and a good night’s rest can’t solve.” He spins on his heel and takes her hand, planting a kiss on the back of it. His mischievous grin is met with her own shy smile.

Fuujin taps his chin with her free hand, her head tilting over towards the bed. “Strip and lay down.”

“My dear, Fuujin, I thought you’d never ask.” He received a light slap on his side for his comment. Still, he easily tugs his shirt over his head, giving her a clear view of the muscle he’s built since taking up the gunblade. Thancred falls on his stomach and onto the bed without another word. Fuujin forces herself to look away from his figure to pull out a vial of massage oil, its lavender scent starting to fill the air as she pours the contents onto her hands, spreading the coat around to fully warm it up. She turns back towards him, taking a moment to pause at the sight before her.

The gentle light of the moon shone over every dip and curve of his muscle, highlighting the worn battle scars that he has accumulated over the years as a gunbreaker. His arms are tucked underneath the pillow holding up his chin as Fuujin slowly crawls on top of him, gently balancing herself on his lower back.

Everything slowly melts away as she slathers the excess lotion on him. Her thumbs dig into the tense muscle between his shoulder blades before she flattens her hands and begins rubbing the bones of Thancred’s spine. Underneath her, his hand claws into the bed sheets.

“Twelve, that feels good .” She could feel the deep groan under her palm as she continued to work on his back. Thancred’s shoulders rise and fall with each heavy breath, steady moans slipping out in between. The soothing smell of lavender does little to cool the warmth pooling at the pit of her stomach, like dipping heated metal into water .

Her blue eyes linger at the skin covered by the ends of his hair, and she couldn’t resist her temptation any longer. Leaning forward, with hands pressed firmly against his sides, she placed a hot kiss against the back of his neck. Her ears pick up on the hum of appreciation reverberating in the air, and it sends a shiver down her spine.

Does he know what he’s doing to her?

The air in the room grows warmer with every press of her thumb. Fuujin could not help but lean forward to press her lips against his shoulder blades. She briefly felt him stiffen up before all his tension melted away like ice on a summer’s day. Not hearing any protest, she kisses him again. Over and over, the miqo’te showers him with soft, light kisses as her hands work down into his lower back.

The moan that he let out when she touched a weak spot went straight through her, her own smallclothes growing wet with excitement. She stops just short of the waist of his shorts, instead gripping his sides and kissing up his neck and cheek until she reaches his lips. Her fingers slip past the band and draw circles on his skin as he pushes himself onto his elbows to return the kiss in full force. His tongue dipped between the seam of her lips, touching her own and stealing her breath in a single motion. He took her hand, not caring about the oil that sticks to her skin, his digits gliding across her palm and coating his own with the floral scent.

Thancred nudged her up to her knees before rolling over and laying his back flat against the bed. His tent brushes against her underwear, dragging tentatively across her smalls and sends shivers from her spine to her tail. With his oil slicked finger, he pulls aside her panties and lightly strokes her folds; the sensation making her entire body shudder.

The oil mixes with her juices as the hyur toys with her clit, his index finger purposely tracing around it and ghosting over the nerves with practiced ease that leaves her tingling and wanting. Thancred stares at her face as he continues to tease, taking in the sight of her red cheeks, her gasps, and her fluttering ears. It’s adorable how her body twitches at each motion. He wants to pull her down for a kiss but decides to refrain. It's been a while since he got to see the pleasure written across her face.

He traced painstakingly lower, circling around her entrance one final time before dipping his fingers inside. Thancred’s other hand trailed down to run along the planes of her back before rubbing the fur at the base of her tail. He watched as Fuujin’s face twisted and her mouth fell open to let out a short moan. He has every intention of getting her to sing longer and pull himself up; his lips pressing against her neck as he fondles her tail. His other hand traveled along her side and cupped her breast. A sudden gasp escapes the miqo’te as he rubs her nipple, and her nails dig into his skin.

“T-Thancred,” Fuujin mutters breathlessly.

The hyur could feel his cock twitch at the sound of his name on her lips, and his smallclothes were quickly becoming far, far too tight. He has barely been touched and already she is getting his blood pumping. She is too sultry for her own good.

He pulls away from her neck, their gazes locking with each other as she reopens her sky colored eyes. Fuujin wraps her arms around his shoulders, pressing herself against him and leaving no room to breathe without feeling the other. Their lips crash together in a kiss even hotter than before, with her wasting little time to brush her tongue between his lips and into his mouth. Thancred wraps both of his arms around her waist to stabilize her, and she took the chance to grind her hips against his hardening cock.

“Fuu,” Thancred says between a series of tiny kisses, “I’ll buy you a new pair later.”

A sharp tear echoes through the room as Thancred ripped through the band of her smallclothes like it’s nothing more than paper. The remains are tossed off to the side with little care by the time she realizes what is happening. She knows she should be angry at him for pulling something like that, but it only turned her on even more knowing that he’s as desperate as she is to fuck.

Fuujin glares and smacks his arm. Her cheeks had felt warm already, but now they burn from embarrassment. He added to her shame by chuckling as he tugs down his shorts and pulls his aching member free, his hand spreading the mix of her juices and oil onto his length as he strokes himself from base to tip.

“Don’t pretend as if you didn’t enjoy that,” he teases her while dragging the head against her lower lips. She could feel him perfectly position it at her entrance, her body already quivering with anticipation.

Deciding that he’s taking too long, she pushes to make the first move. Fuujin slowly lowers herself onto his cock, digging her nails into his shoulder to prevent him from moving; the hitch in his breath setting off a small rush of excitement. Ilm by thick ilm, she feels herself stretch to take him in one go. No matter how many times they’ve fucked, she could never get over how full he made her. Thancred’s hand settles on her waist, stroking her smooth skin to soothe her.

Fuuhjin took a moment to calm her nerves, then slowly rolled her hips against his. She drank up every drop of pleasure like water, using it as fuel to push her body to keep going. Her fingers moved from his shoulder to his chest, feeling every flex of his muscles as he restrained himself and the pounding of his heartbeat. Thancred, in turn, didn’t leave any patch of skin uncarressed; holding onto her hips, stroking her thigh, or squeezing her breast. His hands never leaving her as she rode him towards sweet release.

“Keep going, Fuu, you look amazing from down here.” She could feel the rumbling of his voice under her palms. One of his own reached up to play with her chest while the other one urged her to pick up the pace. Impatient, he grabs a hold of her hip and thrusts upward as she comes down, pulling out as she rises up only to bury himself to the hilt again.

Thancred pulls her down and plants a kiss at the top of her head as his pace picks up. Fuujin wraps her arms around his neck to brace herself, with one hand digging into his luscious white locks. Her ears and tail flicker and wiggle in the air at the onslaught of pleasure, her long silky strands tickling his neck and skin like feathers. She tips back her head and chants his name to the ceiling, her legs trembling, fingers knotting into his hair. Thancred wraps his arms around her waist to prevent her from moving far.

He moans into her sensitive ears, sending signals through her entire body, making her feel like a time bomb. Any moment she would come undone, her tail curling and uncurling in the air behind her.

“T-twelves,” Fuujin muttered, her entire body shivering at his groans, “why are you doing that in my ear?”

“Because,” Thancred whispered into her ear in a deep husky tone, “I want you to hear what you do to me.”

Her breath hitched, eyes widened, and ears stood at attention at his words. It gave him easier access to continue his onslaught, his lip lightly gazing at the length of her ear as he lets out a powerful moan. Her own body betrays her as the vibration sends another rush of pleasure that has her curling her toes.

“Now, no more talking,” Thancred growls into her ear, a sharp roll of his hips knocking the breath out of her. “The only thing I want to hear from you is my name .”

With that command, he gripped her hips and pulled out until it was only the tip inside. His head brushes against a bundle of nerves that sends waves of pleasure through her entire body, Fuujin’s back arching and she nearly chokes on her own breath. Her vision goes hazy with desire but she attempts to look at his face. With a swift thrust, he hits the spot again and his own veins fill with liquid fire as he watches the dancer’s body squirm to the overwhelming pleasure.

“Than- Than -” she barely gets her words out before another thrust throws off her train of thought. Every blissful moan encouraged his craving to see her come undone on his cock.

“Sing a little louder, my dear Fuu.” Thancred licks his lips, his eyes dark with lust as the command slips out as easily as he breathes. He removes his hand from her waist to pinch her clit, her back arching further as he stroked the bundle of nerves with practiced ease. He knows her body almost as well as she does; what motions make her gasp, what angle would bring her mind to a halt, and how to make her body tense under his manipulation. All she needs is him - his scent and warmth and the release .

Pleasure ripples through him as he feels her body tighten around him, and he lets out a low moan as he realizes that he is near his breaking point. He tugs her back down towards him, her face pressed into the crook of his neck as he buries his own in her hair. Her body trembles as the vibration of his low, silvery voice fills her ears and sets off every single sensitive nerve she has.

With a final thrust, Thancred fully buried himself inside her, his cock throbbed as he came inside her tight heat. The warmth sent a shiver up her spine. Her chest presses against the hyur as she cums as well; crying out a slurred version of his name.

A quiet moment passes as the two catch their breath and come down from their high. Thancred recovers first and moves to get them settled into the bed, slowly pulling out and laying her down beside him and wrapping a protective arm around her waist. The scent of sex and lavender have taken over the room; anyone would immediately know what they had been up to, but who would attempt to disrupt the hero from her rest after all that she had done?

The muffled cheering and fireworks sound in the distance outside the window. Wordlessly, their eyes grew heavy with sleep. Thancred buries his head in the space on her shoulder, inhaling her sweet scent before planting a kiss on her skin. Her tail unconsciously curling around his waist did not go unnoticed by him.

“Sleep well, my dear. You deserve it. ”

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch20: When The Bough Breaks

Chapter Summary: Fliss finds herself in an impossible position…and her decision tips Frank’s world upside down.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

 Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

 A/N: Don’t hate me… 

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 19

And this day’s ending is the proof of time, killing all the faith I know.

 “Was that another one?” Frank asked as Fliss tossed her phone onto the coffee table with an angry snort.

 She nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Frank sighed and looked at her “Honey…” “I know, I know…” she looked at him. “Look, I’ve made notes of every time I’ve had one so… its recorded. But again, it’s not like we can prove anything…they happen like twice a day and then nothing…hardly what they’ll call harassment.” Frank shifted slightly “This has been going on for 2 weeks now sweetheart.” “I’m well aware of that.” she snapped, before she shook her head “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry…not at you.” “Come here…” he said, opening his arms and she snuggled into him, leaning against his chest as his hand gently ran up and down her arm. “Maybe you should think about changing your number…and not putting the new one on the website.” “Yeah.” she conceded, “It’s not gonna help for work though…” “You can work round it.” he said, “Keep the business line and if you’re not there people will have to leave a message. Then, once you know your clients…you can give them your cell number.”

 “Fucking ass hole is still making my life awkward.”

 “Only if you let him. It’s a minor inconvenience to change your number but, if in the grand scheme of things all he has in his back pocket is sending you some dumbass birthday card and silent phone calls then…he’s just a pathetic fucking loser that’s trying to bully you into being scared.” “I’m not scared, just pissed off.” she shook her head “I know he’s a chicken shit, he wouldn’t dare come near me not when you’re on the scene…or my dad for that matter.” “Good, because if he did I’m not sure I’d be able to control myself.” Frank said softly.

“Maybe we should just pay someone to kill him.” Fliss said after a moment’s pause and Frank let out a snort “Bullet straight between the eyes.”

“Nah, too quick.” Frank sniffed, reaching for his beer “I’d dangle him over a tank of hungry sharks and lower him in inch by inch…”

“Or we could feed him to pigs, like in Hannibal.” Fliss mused.

 “That’s also an option…no trace” he nodded taking a mouthful of beer.

 “You know they should teach this shit at schools” Fliss reached for her own drink “How to get rid of bodies. I feel it is something everyone should be educated in.” “Maybe you should mention it to Bonnie. Tell her you feel it is an educational rite of passage or some other inspiring shit like that…”

 Fliss laughed, placing her wine glass down and shifting so that she was led on her front, half on-half off Frank, looking up at him as her chin rest on his chest.

“On a scale of 1 to 10 how much of a meltdown are we facing with Mary on tomorrow morning?”

 “From her current mood I’d suspect a good 4 and a half, maybe a 5.” he mused, before he looked at Fliss “I don’t much care, she’s going whether she wants to or not.” “When do the University Classes start again?”

 “Not till second week in October.”  Frank replied “Which reminds me, I need to submit that funding form tomorrow…” “It’s on the table.” Fliss said, as she correctly guessed from the look on his face he was pondering where he had put it.”

“What would I do without you?” he grinned down at her.

 “I have absolutely no idea.” she shrugged and he smiled and leaned down pressing a kiss to her lips.

 “Did you speak to Evelyn before?” Fliss asked him and he nodded.

 “She’s coming down this weekend.” Frank said, “She’s still on about Mary going to Boston for a weekend.” “You still not comfortable about her going?” Fliss asked.

 Frank wrinkled his nose “I don’t know if I trust her fully yet.” “You’ll never know you can unless you give her a chance.” Fliss reasoned

 “You think I should let her go?” Frank said, slightly surprised.

 “That’s not my decision to make, Frank” Fliss shook her head.

 “No, but I value your opinion.” Frank looked at her. “Go on, tell me what you think.” Fliss hesitated for a moment before she sat up and turned her body so she was facing him, her legs tucked underneath her on the sofa. “If it was me in your position, I’d give Evelyn a chance. She’s played ball so far, done everything you’ve asked her to. You’ve got legal guardianship of Mary so she can’t pull any stupid stunts, and if Mary comes back and tells you something she did that you don’t like, well, you cut the visits.” Frank looked at Fliss before he took another drink from his beer bottle. He was torn in two. In one respect he wanted Mary to be happy and it certainly seemed that she enjoyed seeing Evelyn, but on flip side he was still more than comfortable with keeping his Mother at arm’s length.

“I’ll think about it.” he shrugged, non-committedly.

 “Well, you should also ask Mary.” Fliss said “She might not even want to go.” “She will.” Frank said, “Evelyn has a piano.” Fliss laughed “Yeah, but she’s also bossy, remember?”

 “Yeah, I had heard that.” Frank said, and Fliss chuckled again.

 “Well, can you not think about it right now?” she said, taking the beer bottle out of his hand.

“Hey…” he pouted as she put it down on the table, his pout soon turned into a smirk as Fliss moved so she was straddling him on the sofa, his t-shirt that she’d been lounging around in rode up her thighs slightly and his hands rubbed up the side of her bare skin. “Something on your mind baby girl?”

 “What makes you think that?” she asked, sliding her hands up his chest, over the soft material of his top.

 “Just a hunch…” he mumbled, as he reached up and gently gripped the back of her neck, pulling her head down to meet his.

****** “Hey Frank…”

 Frank looked up and smiled at Alan as he walked into the work shop.

 “Hey Alan, not seen you in a while, how you doing?” “Good…I’m good. I was just wondering if I could have a word in my office.”

 “Sure.” Frank frowned “Is err, everything ok?” “Oh, yeah, it’s nothing to worry about…quite the opposite in fact…” “Alright, well me just finish piecing this oil filter together and I’ll be with you.”

 “Sure.” Alan said, “No rush.” 

Frank quickly tightened the filter back up, gave it the once over before he set down his tools and hopped off the boat, wiping his hands on a rag before he walked through the door at the back of the workshop and down the small corridor that led to the main office at the rear of the shop. He knocked sharply on the door and then swung it open as Alan looked at him, gesturing for him to take a seat whilst he finished up his call. Eventually, he bid the person on the other end good bye and placed the receiver down.

 “Relax, Frank…” Alan chuckled as Frank adjusted his jeans for what felt like the 30th time since sitting down.

 “Sorry.” Frank nodded, scratching at his temple. “So errr, do you need me to do something or...” “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Alan said “As you know Paul is retiring at the end of the year, which means the Head Mechanic role is up for grabs…and I was wondering if you’d be interesting in taking the position.” “Me?” Frank’s eyes widened slightly

Alan nodded “I know in the grand scheme of things you haven’t been here long but you’ve impressed me, just like Bill said you would. You knuckle down, you do the overtime if needed, you don’t complain…I like you Frank, and the team does to.” “I err…” Frank scratched the back of his neck. “I’m flattered…but I’ve never managed a team before or…”

“You were an Assistant Professor at one stage right?” Alan eyed him and Frank sighed, nodding “You must have had a research team…” “Yeah, but…” “It’s no different.” Alan shook his head, “And I’m here to help and give you some guidance. I’m not quite ready to retire fully yet. Not like Bill, only so much golf I can play before I go fucking nuts.” Frank snorted “Yeah, not gonna lie, it’s not my thing…” Alan looked at him “The duties won’t be that much different Frank. You’ll just be in charge of booking the jobs in, allocating them to the guys, keeping on top of deadlines and general management of the team…means a little less time spent actually getting your hands dirty but…well, you can manage that yourself. You wanna take a job you take it.”

 “Can I take a bit of time to think it over?” he asked.

“Sure. Take a few days, let me know. I’d like to have whoever is taking over in a position to start the handover by the start of October if possible so…” “Thanks.” Frank nodded “I’ll give it some thought.” “Oh, and it also comes with a Ten thou a year raise…” Alan casually dropped in as Frank stood up “Plus a bonus each year of up to 20 percent, depending on how well you’ve done on your targets” “Just a minor detail you forgot to tell me.” Frank arched an eyebrow.

 “Well, I wanted to make sure you’d consider it for the right reasons not merely the financial incentive.” Alan shrugged “Another reason I’m convinced you’re perfect for the job.” Frank nodded and with that he left the office. Given that it was almost lunch time he took his break 15 or so minutes earlier and headed out into the September sun, pulling out his phone.

 “Hey Sailor.” Fliss greeted him.

 “Hey Cowgirl.” he smiled, leaning against the hood of his truck sipping a bottle of water “You got a sec.” “For you, always. What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing bad anyway…I just got offered a promotion.”

 “Frankie that’s amazing!” She gushed “You sound surprised though.” “I am, a little.” he said, before he launched into an explanation of what Alan had told him and what the job would entail, plus the financial incentives.

 “Wow!” she said as he finished talking “Baby, that’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you!”

Frank felt himself blushing at her praise, and despite the fact he couldn’t even see her he rubbed at his neck slightly. “So, you think I should take it?” “Of course I do.  But at the same time, if you don’t want to then…you don’t have to. This is a great position to be in honey, Alan’s clearly seen your potential.”

 “Just not sure If I’m cut out to be management.” he said, biting his lip.

 “I had the same thoughts about my business you know.” she spoke gently “I wasn’t sure if setting up on my own after everything that happened was gonna work but then Dad told me that I’d never know unless I took the plunge. Have a little faith in yourself. The only person who doubts your capability is you.”

Frank smiled at her words and looked up and out over the Marina “You always know exactly what to say.” “Not really, I make most of it up as a go along.” she said and Frank laughed. “But, just think, with the extra money you can get a new car…” “There’s nothing wrong with my truck.” “Frank, it’s died on you 4 times in the last 2 weeks. Dad reckons his ride on lawnmower has more power under the hood than that thing”

 “Ok, I’ll admit…she’s getting a little clunky…but she is into her twenties now….” Fliss snorted “You could get yourself a nice Audi…”

“Fuck off.” Frank said and she laughed

 “I like Simon’s car…” “You like it so much you get one.”

“Would never fit Thor in the back.” she said and Frank had to concede she had a point “But now you’re freelancing…you don’t actually need a truck do you?” “No, but…it’s handy…” “Handy, baby it only has three seats…” “And a flatbed…” Frank pouted slihglty. “So get one with five seats.” she shrugged. “You can buy trucks with a full cab…”

“This is not a good enough reason to get me to take the promotion…” 

“You want a better reason?” She said. “Ok, well here’s some food for thought…when the lease is up on our place maybe we could look into buying. You know I don’t wanna rent forever, I want us to have something for the future that’s ours, and the extra money you get a year would make a difference in what we can borrow towards it.” And just like that, as always, she’d managed to sideswipe him. He’d be lying if he hadn’t considered getting back on the property market, he had savings after all…but he’d given it no more thought than a fleeting idea every now and then when he drove past places with real estate signs in the front yards

 “This mean you’re coming round to the idea of marrying me and having baby Franks and Flisses?” She snorted “You’re such a dick…although that’s the only time you’ve ever mentioned that when you’re sober.” “So you’re saying that if I ask you when I’m not drunk you’d say yes?” he teased. “Goodbye Frank…” She teased in an airy voice, before she cut the call.

 Chuckling to himself he slid the phone back into his pocket and headed back inside to grab his lunch from the fridge in the kitchen. As he did so he passed Paul who was heading out with a fresh cup of coffee.

 “Oh, erm…Alan…” Frank looked at him. “So, turns out I don’t need as much time to think about it as I thought I did. I’ll take the job.” Alan smiled at him and pat him on the shoulder “Good man. I’ll get the wheels in motion and then we can work out how we start to transfer Paul’s responsibilities over.”

Frank nodded at him as he walked off.

 “Oh…” Alan called after him, “We’ll also need to pick your car.”

“My car…” Frank frowned.

 “Yeah, did I not mention? Paul’s BM…that’s a company car. I’m gonna let him keep it as a retirement present so we’ll need to order you another one. Not least because I don’t want my Head Mechanic driving around in that heap of shit you have. Looks like we don’t pay you enough…” Frank stood there, eyebrows raised as Alan simply smirked at him and left. Shaking his head, he gave a little groan, already imagining Fliss’ face when he told her.

*****

Fliss had reacted exactly how he had thought she would, laughing hysterically and then teasing him about how he had no alternative now than to get rid of the heap of shit he was ridiculously attached to. She’d then spent the evening looking at cars on her phone, showing him ridiculously pimped out vehicles in various vile colours, the final straw being a hot-rod red for Mustang with gold rims and flames painted down the side. At that point he’d snatched the phone out of her hand, grabbed her hips and pulled her down under him on the couch and given her something else to think about for half an hour or so.

September ticked by, in the usual speed by which time seemed to be flying for Frank and he found himself thrown into his job, soaking up Paul’s experience of managing the team as much as he could. He was also extremely grateful for both Fliss and Bill’s input, both of them having dealt with managing staff and rotas so he was able to ask them both questions as well. Naturally, when V heard about it she insisted on cooking him a special dinner, and even Evelyn presented him with a very nice bottle of Scotch when she came to visit as a Congratulations.

 Another bit of good news for them was that once Fliss changed her phone number the calls stopped as well. Frank was glad about that, because it meant that once again they’d thwarted the ass holes attempts to intimidate her. She’d made a blog, however, of every call she had gotten which now sat in Greg’s files along with the Card. Just in case.

Nope, on the whole life seemed to be going well for the pair of them.

“Someone’s looking smug…” Greg teased Frank as he leaned back in the chair around Greg’s large outdoor table. It was a Saturday at the start of October and they’d finally got round to having that cook out and gathering that the Circle of Truth had been attempting to organise round everyone’s schedule for the last 3 months.

 “Well, you know…life’s pretty good.” Frank smiled, sipping his beer, his eyes straying to Fliss who was stood around the bar area to the right of the garden with Bonnie, Zara and Lisa. She was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a tie-died off the shoulder sweater but as usual, she looked stunning.

 “You got a ring yet?” Jake asked, dropping down into a seat next to him.

 “Oh don’t you start as well.” Frank groaned as Simon and Greg both laughed. “We’re happy as we are…besides, we’ve not even been together a year yet…” “Not far off.” Jake shrugged “Man, when you know you know…” “He’s just scared she’ll say no.” Simon teased. Frank stilled for a moment and then turned to glare at the man. “Shit, you are?” Simon frowned “No, not especially but…” Frank shook his head, trying to find the words to explain “I’m absolutely, totally convinced I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I know she feels the same but…well she’s been married before and I don’t want to ask until I know she’s ready to do it again.”

Greg looked at him, nodding “I get that.”

“That’s gotta be the most grown up think you’ve ever said…” Jake looked at Frank who flipped him off but deep down he had to admit, it wasn’t wrong. He knew that both he and Fliss had come a long way from the people they had been just over 14 months ago when they had first met. Fliss had come alive, flourished even in herself, and he…well, he’d learnt that there was more to life than the meaningless cycle of one night stands and that flying by the seat of his pants wasn’t always the most productive thing to do. Both of them had been broken in their own way, had their own guards and walls around themselves which the other had managed to smash straight through. He stole another glance at Fliss and smiled, he knew there was no other woman for him, but in the same breath…what was the rush? They had a life time. And a ring and a piece of paper wasn’t going to change any of that.

 “Man you grew up…” Simon grinned and Frank rolled his eyes.

 “Look, I’ll have you know I’ve brought up a kid since the age of 6 months…all this shit about me being a man child…It’s crap…”

 “Whatever man…we all know you’re not a grown up until you have scatter cushions on your sofa…” Simon teased, referencing the previous week when he and Bonnie had come over for drinks and Fliss and Frank had had a jokey argument about said cushions. Frank threw his head back in a huge bout of laugher, shaking his head.

 “Fuck you!” he said, looking at him as Simon grinned.

 “Anyway, man…speaking of weddings…” Greg turned to Jake “You’ve been engaged for what? Three years now…when you gonna set a date?”

“He has a point…” Simon looked at him.

“Well, you can all shut the fuck up because for your information we have.”

“Shut the front door!” Greg grinned

 Jake nodded and took a large mouthful of his beer.

 “So you gonna tell any of us or…” Jake glanced over at Lisa before he yelled her name and she looked over at him, the other women also looking up. 

“Can we tell them now babe?” he called. Lisa grinned and nodded, and then made her way over followed by Zara. Fliss looked at Bonnie who shrugged, and the two of them picked up their drinks and followed.

 Fliss perched on Frank’s knee and he slid one hand round her waist the other dropped to her thigh.

 “So, we have set a date for the wedding.” Lisa smiled to a huge shriek from Zara. Frank spotted Fliss looking at Bonnie, the two of them sharing a significant smirk and he squeezed her thigh.

 “Stop being a bitch.” he said in a low voice.

 “Rude…” she mumbled, grinning into her gin. “6th April next year…” Jake grinned. “At Hardemans Secret Garden in Dover, Tampa.” “Well unless you invented a time machine, it ain’t gonna be this year is it?” Simon looked at him, before he gave a yell as Bonnie slapped him round the back of the head.

 “Obviously you’re all invited.” Jake said, “Except for Simon.” “Hang on, if he isn’t coming does that mean I can’t?” Bonnie pouted.

“You can be my plus one.” Fliss nodded.

 “Oi…” Frank nipped her thigh gently. She grinned at him, ruffling his hair slightly. He jerked his head out of her reach and looked at her over his aviators. She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned.

 “Guys this is great news…” Greg said, nodding “Best dig the suit out.” “You wear a suit to work every day.” Zara looked at him. 

“And you won’t need to.” Jake shook his head. “In fact none of you will…my brother is best man, obviously, but I’d like you guys there as my Groomsmen…that is, if you’re up for it.” Frank smiled at Greg, then Simon before they all shrugged.

“Yeah, I’m in…” Greg smiled.

“Me too pal, I’m honoured.” Frank smiled, tipping his beer bottle in Jake’s direction.

“Does this mean we get to plan the Batchelor party?” Simon asked. Jake nodded with a grin and Simon leaned back “Oh this is gonna be beautiful….”

***** “You’re fucking mental.” Frank looked at Fliss as she shrugged, circling Cap back round to the jump which Joanne had just hiked up another foot. He shook his head and turned away “I can’t watch.” “Don’t’ be a chicken Frank.” Mary grinned up at him, “It’s cool…I wanna do that some day.” “Over my dead body.” Frank looked down at her.

“Yeah you said that about me going to Boston.” “No, that’s not what I said.” Frank sighed, looking at her “I said over my dead body were you going to live with Evelyn….and did you?” “No…” Mary conceded “But you’re letting me go back for a weekend.”

“Yes, because you’re going for 2 nights and coming home” he said, and despite himself he turned his head to see Fliss sail Cap over the huge jump.

“See….” Fliss said, pulling the horse up to a stop “Easy…” “Whatever you say sweetheart.” he shook his head.

“Can I jump Monty soon?” Mary asked, and Fliss smiled.

“Yeah we can do a little cross pole…” “I give in…” Frank groaned, throwing his hands out to the side “The pair of you are nuts.”

“Says the guy who almost cried when he had to order a new car.” Fliss looked at him and Frank rolled his eyes “I mean who does that?” “Yeah Frank…” Mary said, swinging off the fence to the paddock, leaning back to look at him. “You get to swap a rust bucket for a shiny new Mitsubishi and you were like heartbroken.” “Hey, me and that truck have seen a lot of action-“ “I don’t wanna know…” Fliss started.

“Of which you’ve been part of…” he smirked her and she flushed a little, grinning. “I’m kinda attached to it.” “It’s a lump of metal.” Fliss looked at him.

“How dare you.” Frank scoffed, feigning offence.

“Well now you can have new adventures in the new truck.” Mary shrugged “Simples.” “When you do get it I vote the first thing we do is load it up and head off for a picnic somewhere.” Fliss said, hopping off Cap.

“I can go with that.” Frank nodded as she turned and walked towards the gate, letting her out.

 “Can I take him?” Mary asked, hopping down off the fence. 

“Sure…” Fliss said, handing her the reins. Mary led the horse away to the barn as Fliss removed her hat and pulled out her bobble, shaking her long hair free before she tied it back up again.

“I really do like it that colour.” Frank mused after a second, watching her. She blushed a little, and he knew why. A week ago she’d come back from the salon, her usually bright auburn hair was a lot more demure, having had caramel put through the ends. When Frank had complimented her on the change she’d gotten a little shy and said that she used to have it like that when she was younger, but John had always wanted her to keep it her natural colour. Now she felt like she fancied a change. Her admission had once again, knocked Frank for, how simple little things like that were so huge for her.

She pulled off her riding gloves, shoved them into her back pocket and they walked into the barn as Mary opened Cap’s stable and led him inside. As always, the large horse bowed his head gently to allow Mary to undo his bridle and Fliss smiled. Cap was secretly her favourite after Heidi. He was such a loving animal, despite his size always being so gentle and careful around people, especially Mary. Most animals were like that around her, she just had this aura that they seemed to like. But then again, everyone said that animals were a good judge of character.

 “Can we go to the shack for dinner?” Mary spoke up, looking at Frank “It is Saturday…”

 “Oh, I dunno…” Frank sighed, “Not sure my heap of shit truck will get us there.” “No but Fliss’ jeep will.” Mary shrugged and Frank shook his head with a snort.

“You literally have an answer for everything.”

 “Wonder where she gets that from…” Fliss looked at him and he nudged her gently with his elbow.

 “So can we go or not?”

 “Yes, ok we can go to the shack.” Frank said “But the deal is you tidy your room when you get home. It’s a disgrace.” Mary pondered this for a moment as Fliss undid the girth on Cap’s saddle, pulling it off.

 “Deal.” she nodded “Only Fliss said she was gonna help me sort my clothes out…some of them don’t fit anymore.”

“Yeah we do that tomorrow morning.” Fliss smiled, “Then we can look at ordering you some warm stuff for New York.” “Are we still getting matching sweaters when we get there?” “No.” Frank said, at the same time Fliss nodded.

“Yes.” “No, we’re not.” Frank looked at her. 

“Errr 2 vs 1 Sailor, you’re outvoted.” she shrugged, pushing past him with the saddle on her arms. “But if you’re a good boy we’ll let you pick them right Mary?” “I dunno.” Mary frowned “Have you seen his shirts?” Fliss let out a roar of laughter and turned to face her, before she looked at Frank, laughing even harder at the pure indignation on his face. 

“I hate you both.” he said sullenly, folding his arms.

 The Shack was busy by the time they arrived but given that it wasn’t too cold they managed to find a small table outside and ordered their food, Mary getting through an astonishing amount considering but the Frank had noticed she was going through a bit of a growth spurt which he mentioned to Fliss when they were snuggled up on the sofa later.

“Not sure getting her any stuff for New York yet is wise.” he mused “If she carries on like she is it won’t fit her.”

“Well we can wait…Fliss said shrugging, her hand rubbing at Frank’s stomach under his shirt. “You have no idea how excited I am…” “Really?” Frank snorted “You never mentioned it.” “Oh piss off” she laughed, before she sighed happily “It’s the one thing I miss about home and Boston…you know this time of year the leaves would be changing colour and falling,…”

“I know what you mean.” he said, his hands carding through her hair “You don’t really Seasons here.”

“Well you do…” Fliss said, “Hurricane and Summer.” Frank let out a laugh as she looked up at him. “You know you’re my hurricane.”

“What?” he looked at her

 “Came into my life, blew it all upside down…” “Jesus you talk some shit!” he laughed, shaking his head as she grinned. 

“You know there was actually a hurricane Frank back in 2010. So I’m not talking complete shit…” “Whatever Sweetheart…” he snorted, leaning back as her nails scratched against his stomach. He gave a twitch and grabbed her wrist, and looked down at her as she flashed him a coy look. “Stop it.”

“What, this?” she moved and used her other hand, and Frank let out a hiss as he shifted and grabbed that one too.

 “You know what that does to me…” he looked at her, his voice low.

 “Yup.” she nodded, grinning.

 With a jerk of his arms he pulled her forward so she fell onto him fully, drawing a giggle from her as her nose bumped against his.

 “I fuckin’ love you.” he smiled at her, and she grinned, giving him a soft kiss.

 “Yeah, you’ve told me once or twice…” she smirked, her lips locking onto his.

******

 “Fliss?”

 “Office…” she called back, and a second or so later Joanne popped her head into the room.

 “Everything’s done.” she said, “I was gonna lock up…you’re not normally here this late.”

 “Yeah I know but I have some paper work to sort. Need to file a couple of things and, well, thought it would be easier to do it here than take everything home. Frank’s taken Mary bowling so…” “And you’d rather be here doing paper work?” Joanne teased.

“Sadly, it needs doing…besides, last time we went I kicked his ass, again, he sulked for hours.” Fliss snorted “Maybe he stands more of a chance against Mary.”

“Won’t he let her win?” Joanne asked “I mean, she is only eight…”

“No chance.” Fliss looked at Jo. “He says that she needs reminding every now and then that she’s not a genius at everything…” Joanne let out a laugh “Fair enough. Ok, well I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bye Jo…”

 Fliss set about getting to work, filing the various bills and disclaimers she’d had signed and started then sifting through the list of clients and payments, checking who owed what and typing out the bills for the month. Once they were printed and placed in envelopes, ready to be tacked to the stable doors in the morning she glanced at the clock and realised it was almost 8 pm.  Frank and Mary should be home now.

She was just about to pack up when she realised she hadn’t gone through the post for the day. For a second she debated leaving it for the morning, but decided she would get it over with. There wasn’t much- mostly a couple of letters from various equestrian societies around the area about a few events going on, but the last one she reached was a manila envelope with the address typed out on the front.

 She turned it over, opened it and then pulled out the contents and immediately felt her blood run cold as she looked at the paper in front of her. It was a copy of the photo of her and Mary, taken from the first Blog that Mary had written over the summer. Underneath it was typed a simple message- I always knew you’d suit motherhood.

 Fliss swallowed, it didn’t take a genius to work out who it was from but for the first time since his ridiculous campaign now she was actually frightened as to the meaning behind this. Up until now it he’d been nothing more than annoying but this was designed to be more than an aggravation.

 It was a threat. A direct threat telling her he knew about Mary.

 Whilst Fliss wasn’t Mary’s mother, and would never claim to be she loved that girl like she was her own and the fact that John was even brining her into this made her feel physically sick, so much so that she felt the bile rising in her throat and with a sharp heave she lurched to the side, grabbing the waste paper basket and hocking up the bitter substance. Coughing she wiped the back of her mouth with a shaking hand, reaching for the bottle of water on her desk.

 She folded the photo up and stuck it back in the envelope, shoving it in the drawer before she stood up and locked her office, heading to her jeep. Her mind was reeling, now it wasn’t just her he was focussing on, this changed everything. Did she tell Frank? She knew she should, she couldn’t leave Mary in danger. Not that she believed any harm would come to her, not really, especially not under Frank’s care but that was another worry she had. That if she told Frank this, it was really going to push him over that edge into blind rage, and he’d been on the first plane out to Boston, hunting the fucker down…and then what?

 He ended up in jail himself because Fliss knew Frank well enough to understand that if that blind rage took hold, he wouldn’t stop.

 She had no answer to this, nothing. She sat in her jeep, staring out of the window, trying to force the thoughts and mumbles and voices in her heat to quiet, so she could think clearly, get some form of grasp on what it was she needed to do. And then one voice was screamed at her, clearly, giving her a solution…the only one she could viably see working.

With a loud sob, Fliss covered her face in her hands, unable to see an alternative to the decision she had just reached. A decision that was going to break her heart more than anything had ever done before.

******

“Hey, you’re late…”  Frank looked up, immediately frowning as he saw Fliss’ face. “Honey…what…” “Where’s Mary?” she asked instantly.

“She nipped to Roberta’s” Frank said “I know it’s late but we saw her as we were headed out of the car and she wanted to collect something for Show and Tell tomorrow…why?”

 “We need to talk.” Fliss said.

Frank stood up off the sofa and walked towards her, he reached for her and she took a step back.

“Ok, Fliss, you’re scaring me now…what…”

“I think…” Fliss looked down at her hands “I think that we need to stop seeing each other.”

Frank blinked, not sure he had heard her right, but when he looked at her he saw a tear trickling down her face and she was avoiding his gaze. The world around him began to fade and a dull buzzing filled his head and rang around his ears as a horrible cold feeling washed over him.

“Lissy…” he swallowed, his words sticking in his throat “What’s brought this on? Did I do something? Are you not happy? I don’t understand…” “I just…it isn’t working for me…” she took a deep breath and looked up at him.

“You’re lying.” he said instantly, he could see it written all over her face “Fliss, what’s going on?” “Nothing, I’m sorry. I just…I need to leave, I need space.” she said “I’m so sorry Frank…” Frank took a deep breath, and watched as she turned to leave. After a second he hurried after her into the hallway, shaking his head.

 “Lissy, please…talk to me…” he all but begged as she walked to the door. She made to open it but Frank was behind her and placed his hand firmly on the top of the PVC, causing it to shut. She spun round and looked up at him, the tears now pouring down her face.

 “Please, Frank…don’t make this any harder than it is…” her voice was broken, and she shook her head. “I don’t understand what THIS is?” he looked at her, running a hand through his hair as he felt the stinging of tears in his own eyes “Last month we were talking about buying a house together and now you just wanna break it off, for no reason? Honey, just…whatever is going on, we can work through it, just talk to me.”

 “I’m so sorry…” she whispered, “Just…let me out…please…”

He looked at her again, her eyes bouncing across his and he knew instantly he couldn’t stop her, and would never do that to her either, no matter how much he so desperately wanted to lock the door and force her to tell him what the fuck was going on. So with a sniff he forced himself to step back and her hand went to the door knob, her shoulders shaking.

 “Liss, please…” his voice cracked. “Don’t do this…”

 She took a deep breath and opened the door, the warm air from outside hit him in the face, tears stinging his eyes slightly before click of the latch hit his ears as the door shut behind her, leaving him stood alone in the hallway, stunned and utterly, utterly broken. 

**** Chapter 21